


Your Love

by Clitler



Series: Destiel Playlist [40]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Bad Parent John Winchester, Blood and Gore, Boys Kissing, Castiel knows this, Come Sharing, Domestic, First Time, Grown up Dean Winchester, Inappropriate Lust, Inappropriate Use of Cooking Oil, Inspired by 'Lolita', John is a Bit Not Good, Josie Sands - Freeform, M/M, Married Castiel, Middle-aged Castiel, OOC characters, Older Castiel, Olive Oil as Lube, Oral Sex, Reunion Sex, Rough Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Sexual Biting, Smut, Teen Dean Winchester, Underage is Noncon, Unsafe Sex, Violence, handjobs, messed up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-09
Updated: 2018-02-23
Packaged: 2019-03-16 00:45:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 25,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13624977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clitler/pseuds/Clitler
Summary: Castiel takes advantage of the crush his sixteen-year old neighbor has on him while his wife is out of town.  Of course, it's never that simple.





	1. Your Love (The Outfield)

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys, so I know I said I was taking a break, but I'm back early. (*all clap and applaud*)
> 
> I'm still on a darkside kick, though, so bear with me.  
> This story was actually the one that started it all. I had just finished reading 'Lolita' and this song came up on my playlist and it was truly a lightbulb moment.
> 
> There are some pretty bad things in this, so please heed the tags.  
> And, as always, unbeta'd, all mistakes are my own

Your Love (The Outfield)

            It wasn’t like he expected any different, but every time something like this came to his attention, Castiel felt the barest twinge of regret.  _What_ he was regretting he couldn’t exactly say, whether it was the marriage itself, his choice of wife (not that he’d _had_ much choice in the matter), or letting things get this far.  The first time he’d met her, at one of his father’s corporate retreats, he knew she’d be trouble.  Her immediate dismissal of him had been somewhat of a relief.  Even though she was stunningly beautiful, her personality was obviously not something he would ever be attracted to, and her change of opinion when she heard his last name didn’t help in that regard.  While she’d been rude and almost hostile to a random corporate drone, she was solicitous and falsely coquettish to the boss’ son.  But at that age, Castiel had been all about obedience at work and towing the family line, two ideals he had felt were synonymous with each other.  Ten years later, he wasn’t so sure, about obeying his father in any aspect of life _and_ about marrying Josie Sands.

 

            Their courtship had been quick and efficient, once the elder Mr. Novak had been presented (by Josie, herself) with a business proposition/marriage proposal.  It seemed that Sandover Bridge and Iron, Inc was more than a little in arrears with their creditors and Josie’s proposed merger with her family’s small but lucrative shipping firm was the godsend Castiel’s father had been praying for.  So, his father got to continue the company Castiel’s mother’s family had founded over a hundred years ago, and Josie’s family got the prestige and vastly expanded customer base they desired.  Castiel got a wife he had no need or desire for, and Josie got someone to do her taxes and walk her ugly lap dog while she was away. 

 

            Castiel sighed and looked out the window of his home office, where he’d spent the last few hours reviewing his lovely wife’s expenses from her last ‘business trip’ to New Orleans.  Said business trip had incurred bills from the hotel for a couple’s massage, eight bottles of champagne, and two ‘amenities’ (read: prophylactics) baskets during her three-day stay.  Not that he was one to criticize, seeing as their wedding night had been the one and only time he’d touched her, and it had been memorable only for its awkwardness.  For the first nine years of their marriage, she had been professionally discrete in her numerous affairs, but in the last year, she had thrown all discretion out the window, even going so far as to have some of her ‘friends’ drop her off home after their visits.  The increased frequency of her ‘business trips’ spoke very ill of the state of their marriage.  He’d sat at his desk all morning, pouring over the details of her indiscretions and found the only emotion he could muster was relief that she had only stayed home for a week before leaving on a two-week ‘working’ vacation.

 

            Movement at the periphery of his vision caught his eye and Castiel leaned further back in his chair to look over the row of low bushes demarking their back yard from their neighbors’.  Their house had been a gift from Josie’s family and was, by far, the biggest in their suburban neighborhood.  Castiel had cringed every time he drove into their four-car garage the first year they’d lived there.  He’d gotten used to the big, empty house by limiting his habitation of it to his bedroom and its en suite, his office, and their elaborate kitchen.  The back yard was also his domain.  He wasn’t even sure Josie knew they had a back yard.  In ten years, he’d yet to see her step foot past the French doors at the back of the kitchen.  The big yard was where Castiel spent as much of his waking hours as possible, whether tending his multiple gardens or simply enjoying the fresh air and sunshine.  Josie had a redhead’s distrust of the sun, so Castiel had always felt safe from her increasingly spiteful attentions there. 

 

            The back yard had gotten even better in the last year, since the arrival of the Winchesters.  Winchester the elder was a ghost, away more than not, leaving his two sons to raise themselves.  Or, more to the point, leaving the oldest to raise the youngest.  Castiel had thought little of the small family of Winchester men for some time, preferring to adhere to the ‘good fences’ rule of dealing with neighbors, but recently, something very important had begun to change.

 

            Of course, he’d noted, entirely objectively, the physical beauty of the oldest Winchester boy when he’d first seen him, but the boy was barely fifteen and hadn’t even been a blip on Castiel’s radar.  He’d admired the way Dean looked after his younger brother, watching both boys grow up together from the short distance between houses, like watching an after-school special about latch-key kids with the sound turned down.  In the last couple of months, though, Castiel’s fascination with the family of two next door had increased exponentially.  The older boy, Dean, had blossomed this spring and now, even at the tender age of just-turned-sixteen, seemed inclined to be always in Castiel’s line of sight.  And oh, what a sight he was!  The relentless California sun had been generous to Dean, tanning him in all the right spots to highlight his freshly-grown musculature, just this side of twink.  Castiel had never really thought of himself as a dirty old lecher, but the more he watched Dean sweat it out behind their rusty lawnmower, with his shirt discarded haphazardly on a lawn chair and his cargo shorts riding dangerously low and exposing what should be an illegal amount of white skin below his tan line, the more he thought Nabokov may have had the right of it.  Although a sixteen-year old boy was a far cry from a twelve-year old girl, Castiel felt nearly helpless to his growing obsession.  Dean’s soft skin and nubile body had replaced the faceless hardbodies in Castiel’s nightly fantasies, even encroaching on his daily shower, until Castiel had mentally put the boy through enough debauchery to make a whorehouse madam blush.

 

            Castiel was torn from his musings by the sputtering growl of the Winchesters’ lawnmower giving its last, dying gasp under the hot, June sky.  Castiel watched, bemused, as Dean cursed the ancient machine and kicked it repeatedly after multiple attempts at restarting it met with dismal failure.  The boy finally walked over to retrieve his shirt from the lawn chair and wiped the sweat from his face and chest as he walked back to stare down at the dead mower.  Standing with his hands on his hips, Dean looked up at the sky, then back at the mower, finally scanning the lawn absently, as if the answer lay in the hedgerow between their houses.  He stopped when his eyes lit on Castiel as he stared enraptured out the office window.  Dean’s face broke in a wide grin and he raised his hand in greeting.  Castiel gasped at being caught out and jerked his head back where he’d apparently been leaning his face against the cool glass of the window.  His chair nearly went over but he caught himself on the desk and stared at the smudge his skin had left on the window in embarrassment and disbelief.  He cleared his throat and, turning back to his desk, resolved to stop staring at delectable teenage boys and get some actual work done.  His wife’s affairs weren’t going to pay for themselves, after all. 

 

            The doorbell ringing startled Castiel almost as badly as being caught lusting after his hot (and totally underage) neighbor.  Seeing Dean’s wavy but unmistakable form through the pebbly glass next to the front door was slightly less of a shock.  Castiel straightened his tie and brushed at the creases in his slacks before opening the door.

 

            Dean’s smile was easily the most incredible thing Castiel had seen all day.  Or even all week, Hell, probably in his whole life, “Hey, Mr. Novak!” The overly-bright greeting would have seemed insincere coming from anyone else, but something about Dean just radiated good intentions and purity.  The quick up-and-down he gave Castiel, however, did not.

 

            Castiel returned the favor, an appreciative smile stretching his lips because Dean hadn’t bothered to put on a shirt, “Dean, I’ve told you, call me Castiel.”

 

            “Oh, right, sorry,” Was that an actual _blush_?  How utterly unfair.  “Castiel, sorry, I…uh, well, my mower kind of crapped out on me.”

 

            The two stood there, staring at each other for a long moment.  Too long, Castiel suddenly realized, “Um, yes, I, uh, I saw that.” Now it was Castiel’s turn to blush. “How can I have you?”  Dean’s eyes widened almost comically.  “Not have, help!” Castiel blurted out, “How can I _help_ you?”  _Jesus, Novak, way to scare the kid_!  But Dean didn’t look scared, he looked…interested.

 

            “Well,” and there was that trademark smirk he’d seen Dean flashing at the many girls he’d dated.  It was a small town and Castiel had noticed him at several places with a different girl each time. “For starters, we can have this convo inside your nice, air-conditioned house instead of the porch…” Dean raised his eyebrows expectantly.

 

            “Oh, yes, my apologies, please come in,” Castiel stepped aside and tried not to inhale audibly as Dean passed by him into the foyer.  He couldn’t help but feel the heat radiating off Dean’s perfectly-tanned and sweat-sheened skin, though and as they stood there, Castiel got a good whiff anyway as Dean’s natural scent filled the small space thanks to the aforementioned air conditioning.  Castiel quickly realized he was staring an inordinately long time again, “I’m so sorry, Dean, I’m being rude.  Would you like something cold to drink?”

 

            Dean licked those perfectly pink lips, “Yeah, definitely feelin’ a little thirsty right now.”  He blatantly glanced at Castiel’s mouth and smiled knowingly.

 

            Castiel felt another flush of warmth creeping up his neck and cleared his throat, “Um, well, yes, uh, this way.”  Castiel indicated to his right and led Dean through the living room to the kitchen.  All along the way, he couldn’t shake the feeling that Dean was watching his ass as the boy followed him.  Castiel shook his head at his own stupid imagination.  Dean was a gorgeous, _painfully straight_ , teenager.  He certainly had no interest in his quickly-creeping-up-on-middle-age, male neighbor and this was not a porno, even if about 90% of the porn Castiel had ever seen started out exactly like this.  Castiel walked over to the built-in refrigerator and opened both upper doors, scanning the interior for something Dean might like.

 

            “Um, I have lemonade, cranberry juice, some diet soda…oh, and the door dispenses filtered water…” Castiel trailed off as he shuffled things around to get to the two cans of diet Coke at the back of the bottom shelf.  He finally laid hands on one of the cans and turned quickly, grinning in triumph, to find Dean lounging against the nearby island, very obviously staring at Castiel’s ass.

 

            Dean straightened and sputtered, clearly flustered, “Uh, yeah, uh, soda’s fine.”  He blushed prettily as he snagged the can from Castiel’s hand and immediately backed up, popping the top and chugging half the can in one go.  Castiel smiled softly in sympathy, his mouth going slack as he watched Dean’s throat work to swallow the cola.  Castiel’s eyes trailed unbidden down Dean’s long neck, watching a bead of sweat as it traversed the boy’s sharp collar bone and dripped down his hard chest and over a pert nipple, the house’s cool air tightening it to a hard nub.  Castiel swallowed audibly as Dean lowered the can and sighed in relief, catching Castiel’s eye as he raised them back up to Dean’s face.  Dean put the can down on the butcher’s block behind him and leaned back on the island again, his tight stomach and long, adorably-bowed legs on full display.

 

            “So, Castiel, where was Mrs. Novak going off to this time?”  The way Dean said his name sent an involuntary shiver down Castiel’s spine.

 

            “Josie’s, um, on a vacation…far away,” Castiel turned hurriedly back to the fridge, ostensibly to retrieve the pitcher of lemonade, but really it was more to break the intensity of Dean’s eyes on him, something he felt like a physical caress.  “And her name is Sands, not Novak.”  He took two glasses down from the cabinet and filled both with lemonade.  “Try this.  I, um, I make it fresh every day.”

 

            Dean took the offered glass with a half-shrug, “Don’t really like diet soda anyway.  Leaves that weird taste in my mouth,” Dean paused as Castiel took a sip of his own lemonade, looking at the older man from under his thick lashes, “I’d rather have a different sorta taste in my mouth,” he said and _winked_ , the fucker, before taking a loud sip of lemonade.  Castiel nearly choked on his drink but coughed his way through it instead, setting his lemonade down on the counter before he could spill it down his stupid self.

 

            “Um, well, ha, yes,” Castiel muttered awkwardly, “Where are your dad and, Sam, is it?”

 

            A dark look crossed Dean’s pleasant face at the mention of his father, showing Castiel what the boy might look like in another ten years, once life had gotten its claws in him, but his brother’s name caused the opposite reaction, the love and pride radiating out of him like a palpable thing.  “Sammy’s spending the summer with our Uncle Bobby, in South Dakota.”

 

            “And your father?” Castiel had no idea why he was pressing the issue.  Besides his own curiosity, it really wasn’t any of his business, but the words were out of his mouth before he could stop them.

 

            “Um, he won’t be back…for a couple days,” Dean mumbled, unmistakable pain twisting his features again.

 

            That tweaked something inside Castiel, some kind of adult/caregiver instinct that whispered about abandoned children from deep down in his lizard brain.  He watched Dean squirm uncomfortably for a moment but decided against pushing him any further, “So, was there something I could help you with, Dean, or did you just come to visit?”

 

            Dean visibly relaxed at the change of subject, “Yeah, I, uh, I think our mower’s done for.  You don’t happen to have one I could finish the yard with, do ya?”

 

            Castiel folded his arms over his chest and looked at Dean with a bemused smile, “I have a lawn mower, but it’s not the kind you’re used to.  You might not want to use it.”

 

            Dean smiled easily back, “Well, now, Cas, that sounds like a challenge.”

 

            Castiel laughed lightly and beckoned Dean to follow him out to the garage.  He flipped on the light above his small compact car and trotted down the three steps into the garage.  He moved a bag of organic fertilizer out of the way to get to his trimmer, an antique contraption he’d picked up at a yard sale years ago.  He’d taken his find home and cleaned it up, sharpening the blades with a Dremel his brother had gotten him as a housewarming gift.  It was the original model grass trimmer, with rotating blades and was push-powered.  He carried it over to where Dean stood in front of the car and set it on the floor in front of the teen, expecting the boy to laugh.

 

            “Yeah, I can use this,” he said thoughtfully.

 

            “Really?” Castiel asked, shocked that a kid his age would even recognize something this old.

 

            “Yeah, sure.  My Aunt Ellen made me use one of these when we stayed with her one summer.  It’s been a few years, but I’m pretty sure I remember how to do it.”  Dean took hold of the handle and carefully carried the trimmer to the side door, the one opening out to the end of Castiel’s driveway and the only break in the hedge that separated their properties.  He cracked the door open but hesitated, turning halfway back, putting his perfect face in exquisite profile to the bright sunshine streaming into the dim garage. “You’re welcome to watch me, though,” he said before turning his head further to catch Castiel’s eye, “If you want to make sure I’m doin’ it right.” And with that, he was through the door, shutting it behind him and leaving Castiel in the dark, alone.

 

            Castiel loosened his tie with a muttered ‘fuck’, letting out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.  He realized he wasn’t going to be getting any more accounting done today, not with that encounter to obsess over.  Maybe some time in the garden was what he needed.  And if he could easily watch Dean mow the lawn through the breaks in the rose bushes, was that really so bad?

 

            Ten minutes and a change of clothes later found Castiel unlocking the small shed set against the back of the garage and pointedly ignoring Dean as he expertly maneuvered the ancient mower around the remainder of his untrimmed yard.  Castiel gathered his tools and sunk down to his knees in front of the first row of roses, snipping and clearing out dead leaves and errant branches.  He was distracted enough by the state of his plants that he forgot to leer at Dean through the bushes and before he realized it, the sun was sinking behind the little patch of woods behind their houses and he couldn’t hear the snick-snick-snicking of Dean pushing the mower through the grass.  With much groaning and crackling of joints, Castiel levered himself to his feet.  This was how he knew he was too old to be fantasizing about sixteen-year old boys, he thought as he put his tools back into the shed, his knees popped alarmingly whenever he stood up and there was a twinge in his lower back that would be even worse in the morning unless he rubbed some arthritis cream in before bed.  Massaging his back with one hand, Castiel let himself into the kitchen through the French doors and headed up the stairs to loosen the offending muscles with a hot shower.

 

            His thoughts inevitably turned to Dean as he ran the sudsy clothe over his skin.  Despite his repeated self-chastisement for thinking of the boy like that, his dick didn’t seem to be getting the morality memo.  As punishment, Castiel refused to give in to his body’s demands for release and instead, turned the water to full cold to kill his traitorous erection.  As he was drying off, he realized he’d neglected to bring any clean clothes with him in his hurry to get under the hot water.  The ringing of the house phone reached him as he walked down the hall with only a towel wrapped around his hips.

 

            The only person who ever called the landline anymore was his grandmother, who liked to act as if she were languishing in some cesspit of a nursing home instead of living it up in a posh retirement community in Florida.  Her weekly calls to Castiel were full of stories about her routing of her arch nemesis (and best friend) Deloris at their weekly pinochle tournament and whatever hapless man had fallen for her charms lately and was just a step away from proposing.  Castiel was halfway across the kitchen before he registered the person sitting casually in the breakfast nook.

 

            “ ** _Jesus_**!” Castiel gasped and jumped back a full three feet, losing his towel in the process.  He felt the heat of a blush spreading up his back and across his neck as he bent to grab his towel, wrapping it violently around his hips as he straightened up, only to find Dean not three feet away, lounging indolently against the kitchen’s large island.  Castiel couldn’t do anything but gawp awkwardly at Dean’s knowing smirk.

 

            “I didn’t really see anything, if that’s what you’re so red about,” Dean said lightly.

 

            “Wh-what are you…doing in my kitchen?” Castiel managed to stammer.  Despite his complete humiliation, his dick was perking up and taking an interest in an obviously-freshly showered Dean, his hair still wet and spikey-dark-bronze.  He’d changed into a white wife-beater and shiny, red basketball shorts, which rode as dangerously low as the cargo shorts had earlier, exposing a tantalizing glimpse of lime-green underwear instead of pale skin. 

 

            Dean straightened up and took a step toward Castiel, one he was loathe to mirror with a step back, “I brought your trimmer back.  It’s in the garage.  Thought I’d,” Dean paused, licking his lips as he glanced down at where Castiel clutched the towel to his hip, “come over and thank you with dinner.  Ya know, since we’re both on our own tonight.” He took another step forward and again Castiel’s initial impulse was to back away, but his feet didn’t feel the same way apparently because he stayed rooted to the expensive Italian tile.  “What d’ya say, Cas? Wanna let me feed you?  Or maybe…” Dean stepped up again, until he was chest-to-chest with Castiel. “you’d like to feed me…something.”

 

            Castiel’s jaw dropped.  He hadn’t been sure, all the times he’d _thought_ he’d caught Dean checking him out, all the casual innuendos, had all seemed like the unconscious flirting that came automatically to someone just discovering the power of their own sexuality.  But _this_ …this was something altogether different.  There was _intent_ in Dean’s words, in the blatant way his eyes ate up every inch of Castiel’s exposed flesh and tracked his movements like they were hungry for more.  There was the coiled heat and potential power of his newly-large body, hovering over Castiel by the bare inch Dean had on him in height.  But there was still the softest lilt of uncertainty, the question there under the suggestion, the quiet whisper of ‘May I?’.  Despite the young-lion-stalking-his-first-gazelle look of him, Dean was still an unsure child testing the waters of how far he could go with this recent shift in dynamics.  Castiel read all of these things in the split-second it took for Dean’s left foot to finish the step required to carry him that last inch, the final syllable of ‘something’ slipping out of his clever mouth as his heel made contact with the floor; and still, Castiel reached out his left hand and dug his nails into the short hair at the back of Dean’s neck and pulled him into a bruising kiss that broke down the final wall of whatever citadel of decency he had imagined himself residing in for the last year.

 

            The rush of pure _want_ that pulsed through him at that first contact was unlike anything he’d ever experienced.  It took his breath away even more so than the firm press of Dean’s lips or the soft gasp that had those lips opening enough for Castiel to finally, _finally_ , slip his tongue inside.  The instant his tongue slid alongside Dean’s, the switch flipped, and Dean was on him, all over him.  Big, calloused hands ripped the towel away and roamed across Castiel’s back, down to his ass, gripping it hard as Dean pushed his hips into Castiel’s. 

 

            Dean wrenched his face away from Castiel on a broken moan, gasping out a shuddering ‘oh, fuck’ as Castiel pulled his shirt over his head in his hurry to get Dean as naked as he was.  “God, you’re fucking huge, Cas,” Dean muttered as Castiel nibbled his way down the boy’s smooth neck, teeth catching on his collar bone when Castiel began pushing frantically on Dean’s shorts.  He only got them down past Dean’s ass before he registered what Dean had said.

 

            “Hm?  My penis?”  Castiel stood up and let Dean shimmy his pants down, kicking them away.  Castiel’s eyes were automatically drawn to the bright green jock, Dean’s cock hard and pushing the loose cup material to its limit.  He stroked a finger along its length lightly, enjoying the full-body shiver his touch induced in Dean.  “Yes, it is a bit above average, I suppose,” he answered absently.

 

            “’A bit above average’?  Cas, _this_ ,” Dean wrapped his hand around the base of Castiel’s cock, bringing the older man’s attention back to his smirking face, “this is a monster cock.  You’ve been hiding this thing over here the whole time?” Dean’s eyes dropped back down to where he was gripping Castiel’s dick.  Castiel’s followed.  Dean’s thumb and middle finger met easily around his girth, but there was no overlap as the boy began slowly, loosely stroking him.  Even that light friction dragged a moan out of the older man, his thighs shaking as he grabbed onto Dean’s shoulders and brought their mouths together again for a sloppy kiss while he tried to maintain.  It wasn’t like it had been that long since he’d had sex, if you counted the anonymous hookups in back hallways and bathroom stalls of gay bars in the city.  Maybe it was the total sense of wrongness that surged through him at letting a sixteen-year old kid give him a handjob while they stood in his kitchen.  Maybe it was the voice in the back of his head screaming _No!Thisiswrong!Stop!Bad!Bad!Stopdoingthis!Thisissobad!_.  Maybe it was the even louder voice screaming _Yes!Doit!Fuckhimtakehim!Shoveyourcockinhisprettymouth!Doit!Doithard!FuckyessoGOOD!._

            All thoughts of stopping here, at this point, of not letting this get any further; any consideration for the kind of man Castiel had always _thought_ he was; any concerns about propriety and family and his wife and his father; everything went the way of the dinosaurs when Dean swiped his thumb across the slit of Castiel’s cock and brought his thumb up to his mouth, eyes locked on Castiel’s as he sucked the drop of moisture off his skin and groaned from deep in his chest.  Castiel seized Dean by his broad shoulders and flipped him, slamming the boy chest-first into the island and pushed his head down until his face   was squished against the smooth wood of the butcher’s block insert.  He snatched at Dean’s hands where he’d tried to catch himself on the edge of the counter and brought them up to the little vegetable sink.  Castiel wrapped Dean’s fingers around the edge and growled, “Hang on here.  Don’t move,” into Dean’s ear.  Dean’s breathy ‘yes, sir’ in response did nothing to cool the fire burning through Castiel’s chest.

 

            He kept his hands over Dean’s and rubbed his dick against Dean’s plush ass as he mouthed across the bunched-up muscles in the boy’s upper back and shoulders.  Castiel growled when he felt Dean shift under him, until he realized the boy was just widening his stance, making room for Castiel between his legs.  Castiel grinned wickedly into Dean’s skin, rewarding him with a dark mark sucked into the skin at the juncture of his neck and shoulder.  Dean cried out and thrust his hips back, slotting Castiel’s cock full between his cheeks.  He reached around Dean’s hip, dipping his long fingers under the waistband of the jock and slipped it under Dean’s balls.  Castiel rolled the softly-haired sack between his fingers and Dean groaned again.  He circled Dean’s hard cock at the base and licked a stripe up Dean’s neck to his ear, humming his approval into the shell.  A single loose stroke told Castiel the boy was an average size and girth, the head wet with pre-release, and hard as diamond.   Castiel rolled his hips up and back, humming happily as the soft skin of his dick slid easily along the soft skin of Dean’s cleft, but it wasn’t enough, never enough, even with this full-body contact, from hands to hips to where his thighs pressed against the insides of Dean’s.  It wasn’t enough to _feel_ Dean’s taught body squirming under him.  It wasn’t enough to _hear_ the boy’s whimpers and whining and begging.  It wasn’t enough to _know_ Dean was his, completely and totally, in this moment.  No, Castiel wanted _inside_. 

 

            “You gonna fuck me, Cas?  God, please say you’re gonna fuck me now.  Come on, I want you to.  Cas, please!  God, your cock is so big, baby.  Wanna feel it split me open so bad.  Bet you’ll fill me up so good.  Come on, Cas, fuck me, please…please…wanna…oh, God, Cas, please do it!”  Casiel’s eye caught on the huddle of olive oil jars about a foot from the vegetable sink as he smiled at Dean’s rambling pleas.  He lunged for them and came away with the plain oil he wanted.

 

            The thing that surprised him most when he looked back on the whole incident later (and boy, did he look back on it _a lot_ ), was that his hands hadn’t shook, not even a little, as he poured a small amount of oil into his palm.  And Dean just stayed exactly where Castiel had placed him, arms stretched across the counter top, hands gripping the rim of the sink, ass out and legs spread.  The straps of the jock framed his butt nicely, the lime green contrasting beautifully with the tan of his legs and back, offset with the creamy white of his round ass.  Castiel set the oil back on the counter and took a moment to caress that firm skin, loving how resilient and springy it was as he kneaded and pinched, before he spread the cheeks with one hand and rubbed his thumb dry over Dean’s pretty pink hole, the same shade of pink as his lips, now that he thought about it.  A sobbed cry ripped out of Dean’s throat at the touch.  Castiel dipped two fingers into the puddle of oil and rubbed them on his thumb a little to warm them.

 

            He stepped back up to Dean, right hand going between his cheeks to rub and tease at his rim, left elbow keeping the remaining oil safely aloft and supporting him as he loomed over Dean, catching the boy’s eyes and smiling sweetly.  “Is this what you wanted, Dean?” he purred, his voice gone deeper than he could remember it ever being.  “You want my fingers inside you?” he asked as his index finger breached the softened muscle, running along the inside and spreading the oil.  Dean gasped and nodded frantically, eyes squeezed shut as he visibly tried to force himself to relax.  “Open your eyes.  Look at me while I open you up for my cock.”  Dean’s eyes popped open.  “That’s a good boy, Dean.” Dean smiled wanly, his small smile slipping as Castiel added another finger and started scissoring them, fucking slowly in and out.  “How many fingers do you think it will take, Dean, before you can take my dick?”  Dean just looked back at him beseechingly.  “Answer me.  How many before I can sink into your tight little hole?”

 

            Dean swallowed audibly before answering, “Four.”  Castiel’s smile grew a little more as he added his ring finger.  Dean’s body jerked involuntarily, and his thighs shook with the force of will it took to stay in position as Castiel stretched him, completely avoiding his prostate.

 

            “You’re very responsive, Dean.  So sensitive.  Has anyone ever done this to you?  Tell me, honestly.  Has anyone ever put their fingers inside you?”  Castiel rumbled as he let his slick thumb rub circles into Dean’s perineum as his fingers fucked him looser.  Dean keened, and his knees went loose before they snapped straight again.

 

            “No,” Dean gritted out, being careful not to let his eyes close, but Castiel could see how badly the boy wanted to let them flutter shut, “Just me…my own…fingers.”

 

            “And what did you think about while you played with your asshole for the first time?”

 

            Dean let his eyes close briefly as Castiel added his pinky and tented his fingers.  “You.”  That caught Castiel off-guard and he paused before pulling his fingers out.  Dean whined at the lose and shook his head a little at Castiel.  Castiel went back in with two fingers, going deeper and sliding along the velvet heat of Dean’s inner walls until he brushed against that hard knot of nerves.  Dean shuddered and whined against the island as Castiel rubbed lightly on his prostate.

 

            “You lay in your bed and thought of me.  Did you come with your fingers in your ass, imagining it was my cock, Dean?”  Dean nodded and groaned, trying to push his ass out.  Castiel pulled his fingers out and stood up, his left hand slicking his dick up with the last of the oil.  Dean’s ass jiggled a bit as he widened his stance even more, arching his back to create that perfect curve in his spine.  Sweat broke out on Castiel’s forehead at the sight of his dick lined up with Dean’s hole as it clenched on nothing, the dark purple head incongruously erotic surrounded by all that milk-pale skin.  He pressed his thumb to the tip of his cock and pushed, popping past the first ring of muscle easily.  Dean’s ass swallowed the head of his dick on a choked sob from the boy and a surprised gasp from the man.  He’d anticipated the tight squeeze but the heat inside Dean’s body was a shock.

 

            “Cas, please,” Dean whispered, breaking Castiel out of his reverie.  His fingers still slick with oil, he clasped his right hand on the jut of Dean’s hip and started the slow, rocking back and forth, burying his cock deeper and deeper with every roll of his hips.  He knew it had to burn the farther he went, it had to hurt a little once he got past where his fingers had stretched Dean out, but the boy just groaned and panted and hissed ‘yes’ and ‘Cas’.  Finally, _finally_ , he was in to the hilt, balls squished against Dean’s perfect ass.  Castiel laid his body along the length of Dean’s back, heart tripping as Dean’s inner muscles rippled around him, trying to adjust to the intrusion.  Chin hooked over Dean’s shoulder, Castiel licked and nibbled on the boy’s earlobe while they waited.  He smeared as much of the oil as he could along the marble counter top before reaching under Dean’s shoulders and gripping him from the front.  He pulled his cock out slowly, groaning as he felt the soft skin inside Dean grip and slide reluctantly along his length.  Dean whimpered under him and Castiel shushed him, sucking a dark mark into the tan skin of Dean’s neck as he picked up a languid rhythm.

 

            Castiel lifted his chest up, moving his hands to the backs of Dean’s thick shoulders as he sped up, pumping harder and faster into Dean, his breath coming out harsh and loud in the quiet kitchen.  The change in angle had his dick striking Dean’s prostate on nearly every thrust.  Dean grunted, the sounds punched out of him as Castiel started going harder.  “Goddamn, boy, so…fucking…tight…ungh…shit…Dean…ungh…”

 

 

            “Fuck…Jesus…Cas…come…on…harder…God…so close…come on…I can…take it…please…” Dean grunted as Castiel pounded into him, “…uh…uh…so big…fuck…God…damnit…ungh…ungh…ungh…”

 

            “Yes, Dean…gonna…gonna fill you up…fuck I’m gonna…” was as far as Castiel got before he lost the power of speech.  He hunched over far enough to mouth at the back of Dean’s neck as his orgasm stream-rolled through him and he clamped his teeth on a fold of skin, setting off the boy’s orgasm.  Dean screamed from far away as Castiel felt his whole body expand out into the universe, right before it contracted again, shrinking faster than the speed of light into a single pinpoint of infinite heat then exploding in a shower of sparks, whiting out his vision.

 

            When he finally came back down, he still had Dean’s skin in his mouth and the boy was panting under him, calling his name weakly.  Castiel released Dean’s skin, thankfully still intact.  That one might have been a little hard to explain to his insurance.  He straightened up and snagged his towel off the floor.  Castiel gently cleaned between Deans legs and helped him stand up.  By the time he had cleaned Deans come off the side of the island, the boy was pulling his shirt back on.  Castiel looked up at him and tried to smile, but it felt like more of a grimace.  He quickly stood and walked toward the stairs.

 

            “Hey,uh, Cas?”  Dean’s voice stopped him in his hasty retreat and he turned just enough, not daring to meet the boy’s eyes.  “What happens now?  I mean…should I leave?”

 

            “Do you want to leave?” Castiel asked quietly.

 

            “Not really, no,” Dean mumbled and took a step toward him.

 

            “I believe you said something about dinner?” Castiel had no idea how he was managing to sound so calm when inside, he was panicking, his heart hammering a mile a minute, his breath shallow and fast.

 

            Dean’s voice went up in excitement, “Yeah, I’m a real good cook!  Sammy loves spaghetti, so that’s what I do best.  Is that okay, spaghetti?”

 

            Castiel closed his eyes and turned back around, “Yes, that…the pantry’s through there,” he waved a hand in the general direction of the pantry door and hustled out of the room.  He tried not to run up the stairs, rushing into his room and slamming the door behind him.  He slid to the floor and dropped his head in his hands.

 

            Once he got his breathing under control and his heart had slowed down under heart-attack level, Castiel rested his head on the door, his arms propped up on his bent knees.  He had really just done that.  He’d really just fucked his sixteen-year old neighbor boy.  In his kitchen.  Castiel groaned lowly and balled up his fists.  He wanted to punch something, preferably himself, but Dean might notice if he came back downstairs with a black eye.  _Sick piece of shit fucking pedophile,_ he thought.  _You deserve to be castrated, not punched.  What the fuck are you going do now, Novak?  It’s rape, you know that, don’t you?  He’s below the age of consent and you just raped him.  You’re going to jail.  That is, if his father doesn’t find out first and just kill you.  You saw him, that guy was huge, and did he look like the kind of guy who’d be okay with this because his son wanted it?  You better pack a bag.  Find a nice non-extradition country and get on a plane._

 

            Castiel grunted his way up off the floor and went over to his dresser, pulling out a pair of sweatpants and an old t shirt.  He dressed quickly and took a deep breath.  The voice of reason, the one screaming at him to run far, far away was right, but he couldn’t face the idea of never seeing Dean again.  When he pictured telling Dean to leave and then taking off himself, the heartbreak and confusion on imaginary-Dean’s face was too much to bear.  Besides, he’d passed Good Judgement about ten miles back and was hurtling toward the cliff’s edge with a smile on his face.  The taste of Dean in his mouth and the phantom feel of his firm skin under Castiel’s hands had made sure of that.  Castiel opened his bedroom door to go downstairs and enjoy a lovely post-coital spaghetti dinner with his victim, saying good bye to the last vestiges of the good man he used to be.


	2. Down (Marian Hill and Big Sean)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean's POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long, my sleep cycle's all fucked up.

Down (Marian Hill and Big Sean)

            Dean’s in Heaven.  He died at some point in the last two hours and is now enjoying his eternal reward.  It’s the only explanation.  Except, if this was Heaven, wouldn’t Sammy be here, conveniently disappearing to his room after dinner?  Dean glanced over at Castiel again, just to check for the hundredth time if he really likes the food or if Dean can catch him in an unguarded moment making a face of disgust or maybe tucking a bite of spaghetti into his napkin.  The older man simply continued to plug along through the ridiculous amount of pasta Dean had piled on his plate.  Dean forgets sometimes that not everyone eats like teenage boys, but Castiel had just smiled beatifically at him and thanked him in a soft, sincere voice when he’d placed the heaping plate in front of him.

 

            “You don’t have to eat all of it, Cas.  I know it’s a lot.  And I think I went a little heavy on the red pepper flake, we just don’t usually have so many spices over at our house and I guess I went a little overboard, so if it’s too hot, I’ll totally understa- “

 

            “Dean,” Castiel said calmly, interrupting Dean’s nervous babbling, “I told you it was delicious, and I meant it.” Dean blushed heavily and looked down at his own plate, trying to hide his small smile of satisfaction.  “You really are a good cook.  And I told you I hadn’t eaten all day.  This is really…perfect.” Dean looked back up, slightly surprised to see a look of real affection cross Castiel’s face.

 

            They finished their meal in comfortable silence, despite Dean’s occasional fidgeting when he forgot to keep his weight on one cheek or the other, his ass still aching sharply from what they did earlier.  Not that he would trade anything in the world for what they had done, even if the feeling of Castiel’s come leaking slowly out of him was a bit strange as the man himself tore off a chunk of garlic bread across the table from him, humming happily as he dragged it through the last of the red sauce on his plate.  And so what if he’d used some of the same olive oil Cas had used on him earlier to make the marinara sauce?  It was no big, right?  Had to be, Castiel wasn’t acting like it was a big deal and he’d be the one to know, wouldn’t he?  So, Dean followed the older man’s lead and covered his nerves with an air of nonchalance, just like he got his ass reamed by his thirty-year old _married_ neighbor on a regular basis because, didn’t _everybody_?  His biggest worry was, what now?  Castiel picked up Dean’s empty dishes and carried everything over to the dishwasher.  Dean tried to help but was told to stay in his seat.  Where he could worry and wonder quietly while Castiel did dishes in a machine directly below the counter top he’d fucked Dean against about an hour ago.  Yup, totally a normal, everyday kind of situation.

 

            Castiel stopped at the doorway that led to the living room and turned his face back toward Dean, “Are you coming upstairs?”

 

            Dean swallowed the hissed ‘Yes!’ that wanted to escape his stupid mouth and went with a very mature, “Sure,” instead.  Following Castiel upstairs, he did take the time to enjoy the view.  For a man his age, Castiel was in incredible shape.  His ass and thighs showed the evidence of his daily runs, the very reason Dean had started fantasizing about the man in the first place. 

 

            They hadn’t even been moved in a day when Dad had woken Dean at the butt crack of dawn to explain he had to leave again on a job, leading Dean downstairs in the gloom to the front door where he gave his oldest son a rundown of The Rules (really just five different ways of saying ‘look after Sam’) yet again and shoving a fifty dollar bill in his hand before patting Dean on the shoulder and trotting down the steps of the front porch.  Dean had stood at the open door in nothing but his jeans and watched his father unlock the Impala as a man jogging in front of their house raised a hand in greeting and veered over to talk to John where he stood in the driveway.  The man talking to his father had been wearing those weirdly short shorts made out of, like, parachute material or whatever, and a shiny tank top.  The two men had talked briefly, John pointing back to Dean at one point, the other man’s eyes lighting on him for a bare moment.  Dean had felt an unexpected blush heat up his face.  Dean was honestly a little smitten by the guy’s thick thighs and toned ass, clearly visible through the thin material of his shorts.  Even from here, he could see the dude’s eyes were a crazy shade of blue and his hair looked like he’d been fucking his way through the neighborhood rather than jogging through it.  They finished their little chat, the man waving absently at Dean as he jogged over to the house next door.  Dad had looked back at Dean and mouthed ‘lock the door’ before sliding into the driver’s seat and rumbling out of the driveway.  So, yeah, those thighs and that ass had really been the start of this whole thing. 

 

            Dean was sure anyone looking at it from the outside would say Dean had Daddy Issues and he was self-aware enough to concede the point, but it didn’t _feel_ like that from the inside, especially as he watched Castiel rummage around under the bathroom sink for a spare toothbrush, his sweats stretched perfectly over his butt.  Dean had certainly never looked at his dad’s flat ass with lust in his heart.  Castiel finally straightened up and they brushed their teeth together, in the side-by-side sinks, and that really shouldn’t have thrilled Dean as much as it did.  They each took a turn using the bathroom in private, time Dean used to wash the dried come off his cheeks and hoping Castiel had washed his dick when it had been his turn.  He hadn’t set out to play house with Cas, but that was exactly what this felt like.  With Castiel folding the blankets down and pulling a double-armful of throw pillows off the bed, depositing them in the trunk at the foot of the bed, Dean couldn’t help but imagine this was a nightly thing for them.  This was a window into a domestic ‘couple’ dynamic he’d only ever seen on crappy motel television screens.  It was, understandably, intoxicating.  Castiel stripped off his sweats and his t shirt, then paused, looking at Dean like he’d forgotten he was there.

 

            “Um, I’m sorry, I usually sleep naked,” he explained haltingly, stepping toward his dresser, “I can, uh, I think I have some pajama pants…somewhere…”

 

            Dean pulled his own shirt off and slipped his loose shorts down his hips.  He’d never slept naked in his life.  Sharing motel rooms, spare rooms in family friends’ homes, and sometimes beds with his little brother had meant sweats or shorts, at least, every night of his life.  The house next door to Castiel had been the first time he and Sammy had ever slept in separate rooms, and even then, Sam had snuck into his room in the middle of the night more often than not the first month or two because he was scared to sleep without Dean.  As sweet as it was, it kept Dean from even considering the fact that he had enough privacy to sleep nude.  The idea hadn’t ever even occurred to him.  “I don’t mind.  I sleep naked, too,” he lied.  Castiel visibly relaxed and tried not to stare at Dean as he took off his jock, something an old girlfriend (Rhonda Hurley, God bless her twisted little heart) had bought him and the closest thing he had to anything approaching sexy in the underwear department.  Dean slid into the left-hand side of the bed and lay on his right side, facing Castiel, like he’d seen in countless soft-core porns.  Castiel stood there for long enough to make Dean think he’d somehow done something obviously childish, so he did what he always did, deflect with humor.  “Are you going to paint me like one of your French girls, Cas?”

 

            Castiel tilted his head and squinted his eyes, something Dean told himself very firmly was _not_ adorable.  Sammy was adorable when he saw a dog he didn’t know and begged to pet it; girls were adorable when they giggled if you nibbled on their ears; kittens were adorable when they hunkered down and shook their asses like they were jungle cats going in for the kill; grown (hot as fuck) men were not _adorable_.  “I don’t understand that reference,” Castiel said flatly as he slid into bed next to Dean.

 

            “Dude! _Titanic_?” At Castiel’s blank stare, Dean made a conscious effort not to face-palm, “It’s a movie? Like, a really popular movie?  You’re telling me you’ve never seen Titanic?”

 

            “I have heard of the ship.  It sank in April of 1912 after striking an iceberg, I believe,” Castiel said as he pulled the blankets over their legs.

 

            “I just…Jesus, Cas, seriously?  Next, you’re gonna tell me you’ve never seen Star Wars,” Dean chuckled as he settled into the pillows on his back.

 

            There was a long beat of silence from Castiel.  Dean turned his head slowly to see Castiel sitting up on his elbow and biting his lip, a suppressed laugh shaking his shoulders.  “That’s not even funny, man,” Dean laughed and Castiel broke out in a full-on grin, his rumbling laugh low and so goddamn sexy.  Dean couldn’t help but reach out a hand and run his fingers over Castiel’s stubbly jaw lightly.  Castiel caught his hand and pulled himself closer.  Those thighs brushed up against Dean’s leg and he turned instinctively toward Castiel, like a sunflower follows the movements of the sun across the sky.

 

            Castiel sucked one of Dean’s captured fingers into his mouth, drawing a groan out of him.  The feeling of wet, hot suction went straight to Dean’s dick and like every teenage boy everywhere, he went from zero to sixty just like that.  Castiel scooted even closer, his own dick at about half-mast, his eyes going wide when his leg touched Dean’s hard cock.  His eyes widened in shock and he released Dean’s finger to lift the sheet and look.  He smiled back at Dean before practically pouncing, shoving Dean’s back down to the bed and latching onto his mouth, the kiss wet and sloppy as Castiel practically climbed on top of him.  The blankets somehow ended up at the foot of the bed as Castiel ground his swiftly-hardening dick against Dean’s.  Dean pulled him the rest of the way over, until Castiel was straddling his hips and their dicks were lined up better.  Dean threw his head back and moaned.  The dry friction kind of burned but he didn’t care in the slightest.  Everything Castiel did to him was amazing, everything felt so _good_.  He could probably come just from this, but he wanted to get Castiel’s dick in his mouth as soon as possible.

 

            Castiel went in for his neck, sucking marks there that would show for days and Dean lost track of any thoughts other than ‘yes’ and ‘more’ and ‘please’ for a few brilliant minutes, just basking in the quick-silver shivers of pleasure emanating from everywhere Castiel touched him.  “Cas,” he finally whispered, getting a questioning hum from the man on top of him, “Wanna suck your cock.” Castiel groaned and shuddered over him, teeth biting into the meat of his shoulder just so, making Dean’s hips buck up of their own accord.  “Can I try? Please?”  Castiel flung himself up to sitting on Dean’s thighs, his eyes terror-wide but lust-blown, cheeks a hectic red, hair a fucked-out mess and Dean bit his bottom lip, tried to do his version of puppy-eyes, ‘cause yeah, this out-of-control Castiel?  This wild, Disney-doe-eyed creature staring down at him was ten kinds of hot wrapped in pure sex and slathered in fuck-yes-sir sauce.

 

            Cas just nodded gape-mouth stupid and let Dean fling him over to his side of the bed, where he could use his superior weight and size to make up for his lack of experience.  He knew the effect this position had on girls, women, even.  Girls went all melty-pliant under the weight of Dean’s broad shoulders, his smooth chest, his smirk and Champaign-grape eyes; women went over even easier, drunk on his youth and his powerful body.  He really had no idea how a man would react.  Although he was no stranger to sex, even at sixteen, this thing with Castiel was the first time he’d indulged his errant thoughts about men.  This was a whole new ballgame, but if Dean Winchester was good at anything, it was acting on his instincts, and his instincts were telling him some things worked on everyone, male or female.  He wasn’t proven wrong, at least with Castiel, who puddled so nicely under Dean’s big body looming over him.  Dean smirked and went to work, again letting his instincts guide him.

 

            Dean started with a kiss, all soft, barely-there brushes of his lips, until Castiel started stretching his neck, searching for firmer contact.  Dean denied him and tried to hide his smile in Castiel’s neck when the older man growled softly in frustration.  Dean rose back up and gripped both of Cas’ wrists, positioning his hands over his head and slipped them under the edge of the headboard.  “Hold on here.  Don’t move,” he whispered in Castiel’s ear, earning himself another growl, but Castiel did as he was told.  His blue eyes were stormy with checked sexual energy, which only fueled Dean’s determination to make this the best damn blow job in the history of oral sex.  This might have been his first time on the giving end, but he figured his extensive receiving experience would help him figure it out.  Fake it ‘til ya make it, right?

 

            He started by trailing his tongue along the older man’s collar bone, dipping into that perfect depression in the middle, licking the bead of sweat that had already formed there.  He moved on to chaste little kisses across Castiel’s pecs because he wasn’t licking the sparse chest hair scattered there, no matter how soft it was.  He was glad Castiel didn’t have hairy nipples because those, he lavished with as much licking, sucking, and tender biting as he could as he surfed Castiel’s surging chest.  Boy, he _really_ liked the nipple play.  So, for future reference: yes to nipples, check.  Castiel was panting and sweating, little locks of black hair sticking to his forehead when Dean finally lifted up enough to look at him.  Dean thought he’d better move on or this was gonna be the shortest blowjob in the history of oral sex.

 

            He ran his hands down Castiel’s ribs as he slid down, careful to keep his hips up, not daring to touch the dark, leaking cock that twitched and dribbled as it curved over Castiel’s stomach.  “Come on, come on,” Castiel ground out quietly from behind gritted teeth and the way he said it told Dean he hadn’t meant to say it out loud.

 

            Dean smiled up at him from where his mouth was hovering just over the puddle of precum that collected in Cas’ belly button, “Patience is a virtue, Cas,” he chastised before lapping up the fluid there and quickly darting around Castiel’s dick as the older man gasped and tried to swing it toward his mouth.  Dean chuckled lowly against Castiel’s inner thigh, turning amused eyes up to Castiel’s scowling face.

 

            “No one likes a cock tease, Dean,” Castiel pouted.

 

            “It’s only a tease if I have no intention of getting there…eventually,” Dean grinned and bit into the soft skin of Cas’ thigh, worrying a mark there, the muscle thick and stiff in his teeth, just like he’d always imagined.  He had to make a conscious effort not to grind his own hard dick into the soft bedding at the long-awaited sensation of having those thighs spread out and under his tongue.

 

            “ _Fuck_ , Dean, please,” Castiel groaned, head thrown back into the fluffy pillow, like he couldn’t look Dean in the eye while he begged.  “I’ll do anything, just… _please_ …”  Dean may have been the one about to suck a cock, traditionally a submissive position, but the power he felt blasting through his brain at Castiel’s whimpered pleas made him instantly think of He-Man raising the Power Sword into the air and bellowing ‘By the power of Grayskull!’.  It was all he could do not to giggle like a ten-year old, because, yeah, that would definitely be a little too childish and he was trying to prove something here, namely that he was old enough for this.  The last thing he wanted was to get kicked out of Castiel’s bed because the man finally came to his senses and realized Dean was way too young for this.

 

            He started with the kitten licks up the big vein pulsing with every frantic beat of Castiel’s heart up the underside of his dick, “Anything?”  Castiel nodded, the cords of his neck sticking out as he clenched his jaw, “Look at me.”  Castiel’s head snapped back down so fast Dean was afraid he might have given himself whiplash, “Tell me exactly what you want.”

 

            “I want you to quit fucking around and suck my dick!”  Dean had made it up to the frenulum and he ran his tongue in a flat arc that ended by swiping away a drop of precum at the tip.  He closed his eyes and hummed happily as the salt-bitter-sharp spread around his mouth.

 

            Dean opened his eyes slowly, batting his eyelashes at Cas in faux innocence, “And?”

 

            “And…and…I want…” Dean hummed a questioning sound as he lifted Castiel’s dick with one hand and proceeded to lick at the head like it was a lollipop, “Ah…ah…fuck, yes, Dean…oh my God, yes…”  Dean stopped licking and blew a gust of warm air across his wet head and Castiel’s whole body juddered, like he’d been shocked.  Dean quirked an eyebrow at him and kept his tongue in his mouth.  “And…uh, fuck, okay…I want…want you to suck it down…um, as far as you can, don’t choke…I, um I don’t like that, just use your hand on the rest…oh, fuck yes…like that…God, Dean yes!”  Dean sealed his lips around the head and began inching his way down, lashing his tongue around to lubricate the slide.  “More…fuck, make it wetter…God, I want to feel it dripping down my balls…”  Dean moaned and couldn’t help grinding into the bed at that, his free hand digging into Castiel’s hipbone to keep himself grounded.  “Yes…fuck, yes…God, Dean…ungh…ungh…so good…you’re…fuck, that’s perfect…ah…ah…ah…yeah, use your teeth…oh fuck…lightly, baby, lightly…that’s it…fuck like that…oh Dean, I can’t…I’m sorry…oh God…”

 

            Dean had a split-second to wonder why Castiel was apologizing, his hand twisting along the substantial portion of Castiel’s cock he couldn’t fit in his mouth (so much he was wondering if he shouldn’t have found a way to practice on someone with a smaller dick first) as it followed his mouth up and down, when Cas began rolling his hips in a gentle wave, shoving his dick in and out instead of letting Dean control the depth.  He almost gagged before he used his hand on Castiel’s hip to hold the older man down just enough to keep from getting face-fucked by the man’s huge dick.  Not that he wouldn’t love to work his way up to that, but his jaw was already aching from the stretch and he was drooling so much he was glad this was happening on Castiel’s side of the bed so he didn’t have to sleep in the wet spot.  He really hoped Cas would be ready for a little reciprocation after he came, because Dean was sure as fuck ready.  Oh well, time for the grand finale.

 

            Dean let go of Castiel’s hip and slipped that hand through the spit cascading off Cas’ balls.  He pulled his mouth up and increased the suction on the head of Castiel’s dick, flicking his tongue in and out of the slit at the same time he slid a spit-slick finger into Castiel’s tight asshole, only to the second knuckle.  Castiel bucked once and then he was _howling_ , a primal, almost inhuman sound that might have started out as Dean’s name but ended up a ragged scream tearing around the room and sending chills down Dean’s spine.  He came so hard, it splashed against Dean’s soft palate and made him gag, but he hung on, keeping the seal tight around Castiel’s dick and sucking for dear life.  He tried to swallow between spurts, but he still ended up with a mouthful of come when Castiel’s back finally unbowed and he flopped down to the bed on a gasping shudder and an endless string of whispered ‘fuck’s.  In a flash of inspiration, Dean crawled up Castiel’s body, wiping his wet hands on the sheet.

 

            He hovered over Castiel’s face and waited a beat for the man to open his eyes.  He lifted an eyebrow and glanced pointedly at Castiel’s still-open mouth.  “Oh, fuck, yes,” Cas breathed and pulled Dean in for a come-soaked kiss, so Dean fed the man his own spend back to him.  Castiel licked and sucked at Dean’s tongue, moaning as he cleaned the taste of himself out of Dean’s mouth, ending the kiss with a little lick to the corner of his mouth and a chaste kiss on top.

 

            Castiel let his head fall back to the pillow and gazed adoringly up at Dean before a sly smile crept its way onto his face, “Get up here, come on.”  He started tugging weakly on Dean’s armpits, “Sit on my chest and feed me that beautiful cock.”  And, um, yes please!  Dean was _so_ down for that.  Luckily, his natural grace hadn’t decided to pack up and leave town in the extremis of his arousal because he managed to climb up Castiel’s limp body without accidentally kneeing the man in the ribs.  He ended up with his knees on either side of Cas’ chest, tucked up into his armpits.  “Mmm, yes, come on, boy, fuck my face,” Castiel licked his lips and darted his tongue out and that was all the encouragement Dean needed.

 

            Dean pushed his dick down until just the tip slipped in between Castiel’s lips.  He leaned forward and gripped the top of the headboard as he slid his cock into Cas’ hot, wet mouth.  He knew he’d never stack up to Castiel, he wasn’t porno-big, after all, but the one big advantage to having an average-sized dick was that he could get the whole thing inside that tight suction, all the way to the base.  He realized he could feel Castiel’s throat constrict around the tip of his dick as the man swallowed rhythmically and Dean let his head fall back as he fucked into the willing mouth under him.  He groaned as he started off slow, still not sure he wasn’t suffocating Castiel in this position, but Castiel grabbed his hips and _pulled,_ shoving Dean’s dick further into his throat.

 

            “ _Fuck_ ,” Dean gasped and looked down to watch Castiel guide his hips as he filled the man’s mouth again and again.  Castiel hummed his approval and Dean, already on the edge almost since Castiel sucked his finger into his mouth what seemed like hours ago, got blind-sided by his orgasm as wave after wave of unbearable heat rolled through his spine.  “Ungh…ungh…Cas… _fuck_ …” he grunted as he shot down the older man’s throat.

 

            Forehead firmly planted on the headboard, Dean looked down and watched Castiel lick his softening dick clean, humming and stroking up and down Dean’s thighs gently.  He looked up at Dean and smiled so sweetly, his eyes wet and soft.  Dean wordlessly scooted down until he was lying alongside the older man.  He rested his head on Castiel’s chest and melted into the way the man ran his fingers through Dean’s hair until his eyelids grew heavy and he felt that floaty loose feeling steal over his body.  Just before he fell asleep, he thought he heard Cas whisper, “Thank you.”

 

 

            The next morning was soapy handjobs in the shower to perk up a very grouchy Castiel and a virtual mile-high stack of bacon to sate a ravenous Dean.  As Dean finished off the last stick of salty pork Heaven, he sat back and considered Castiel, who was running a thumb over and over the knuckles on Dean’s left hand and smiling down at it.  “I don’t want to leave,” he muttered.

 

            “Then stay,” Cas told his hand.

 

            Dean thought about it.  He needed to at least go back home for some clothes and his phone, but there was no real reason he couldn’t stay at Cas’ place today.  With Sam gone and their dad off in Nebraska or where-the-fuck-ever, there was nothing keeping him at the house.  Hell, his dad’s realtor friend would probably be thrilled if no one was there when he brought the new owners through tomorrow.  He could just text his dad and let him know he wouldn’t be home for a couple days.  John didn’t need to know exactly _where_ he was.  “I have to go back for some of my things, but yeah,” Dean turned his hand to lace his fingers through Castiel’s, “then I’m all yours.”  The smile that lit Castiel’s face was worth whatever bitching he’d have to listen to from John whenever he came back.

 

            And that was how the most perfect three days of Dean’s life began, with a simple decision to say ‘Yes’.  He came back to find Castiel already naked and stretched out in his bed, three fingers deep in opening himself up for Dean.  It took every ounce of Dean’s will power not to jump up and down with excitement.  Instead, he leaned against the door frame and watched until Cas begged him to join him, to fuck him, make him come.  He plowed into Cas’ tight ass, one leg thrown over his shoulder and one wrapped around his hip, as Castiel jacked his dick with one hand and played with one of Dean’s nipples with the other, until they both came gasping each other’s names.  Condoms were a null issue at this point, Castiel told him and Dean nodded sagely.  He believed the older man when he said Dean was the first to get Castiel bare and he told Cas truthfully that he had always used a condom before this. 

 

            Being with Castiel had a way of pushing the real world away, making issues that should have bothered Dean seem inconsequential.  When they were lying in Cas’ bed, Dean trying to catch his breath and Castiel running a fingertip over his sweaty skin, they talked about food and told jokes and made promises, like it was all that mattered.  Every time Dean had a flash of doubt, Cas would smile or lick his cock or pet his hair and Dean’s doubts flew away like startled birds, until they disappeared entirely, lost in the blue sky of Castiel’s eyes.  Castiel, for his part, seemed totally at ease, unbothered by Dean’s age or his own marital status.  They lived in their own bubble for three days, a pocket universe where Dean fit into Castiel’s life as an equal and the facts were never, ever mentioned.  Dean let the sex and the affection lull him into the first real sense of contentment he’d ever found.

 

 

            “No one will see, Cas, come ooooooonnnnn,” Dean tried not to whine, but Cas was being difficult.

 

            “What if someone comes by to…deliver a package or something?”  Castiel gazed down at Dean where the boy knelt between his knees.

 

            “No one will answer the door and they’ll leave it on the porch and go away,” Dean ran both hands up Cas’ thighs, then back down, dragging his nails lightly back down to his knees.  Castiel hissed and shifted his ass, making room in his loose board shorts for his growing dick.  “No one’s gonna come back here to deliver a package, so why don’t you give me your package?” Dean winked and Cas laughed at his terrible innuendo.  Dean bit his bottom lip and that was all she wrote, Castiel’s faint at propriety was effectively dodged.  He let Dean slip his shorts down to his ankles.  Castiel threaded his fingers through Dean’s soft hair as the boy made his way up the inside of his thigh.

 

            By the time Dean was lipping at his balls, Castiel was hard and leaking down his own length.  He kept his eyes glued to Dean’s eyes, his pupils dilated with lust despite the bight sunshine in the back yard.  Dean swallowed the first couple of inches and Castiel finally let his eyes close.  If he watched this part, he’d come within a minute.  Castiel sprawled out in the deck chair, letting the heat of the sun battle the heat of Dean’s mouth.  Dean rubbed circles into Cas’ hipbones with his thumbs as his tongue whipped circles around Castiel’s cockhead.  Castiel groaned Dean’s name and tightened his grip on the boy’s hair.  The slick sound of flesh on flesh was soon added to the mix as Dean took his own cock out and stripped it in rhythm with his mouth on Cas’ dick.  “Fuck…Dean, so fucking good, baby…oh God, your mouth…”

 

            Suddenly, the heat and suction of Dean’s mouth was gone.  Castiel opened his eyes just in time to see a fist flying at his face before the world turned off.


	3. Blurry (Puddle of Mudd)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel and Dean have to face the consequences of their relationship

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not entirely happy with this chapter, mostly because they're going a little off-script.
> 
> Nature of the beast, I guess.

Blurry (Puddle of Mudd)

            “Fuck…Dean, so fucking good, baby…oh God, your mouth…”

 

            Dean felt more than saw a shadow fall over him.  Before he could even open his eyes all the way, he was shoved roughly backward, off Cas’ dick, landing hard on his ass in the grass.  His eyes flew open in time to see his dad decking Castiel hard enough to knock the man out.  Castiel’s body went lax and all Dean could think was he was completely defenseless now.  John drew back and landed another solid hit to Cas’ face and Dean heard the snap as Castiel’s nose broke.  Dean scrambled for the pile of gardening tools they had haphazardly discarded an hour ago.  His hand landed on the short-handled spade he’d teased Cas for using around the rose bushes earlier.

 

            “DAD!” Dean shouted as he stood up, palming the spade in a two-handed baseball bat grip.  John punched Castiel again and grabbed the unconscious man’s shirt, shaking him brutally.

 

            “Wake the fuck _up_ , you fucking child molester!  What did you do to my son?  Sick fucking pervert!  I’ll **_fucking kill_** you!”

 

            Dean didn’t think, he just acted.  Following his instincts, like his father had taught him, instincts that told him Cas would be dead soon if Dean didn’t stop John by any means necessary.  He swung the spade at the back of John’s head.

 

            His dad went down like a house of cards to the ringing sound of the spade connecting with bone.  The reverb lit up Dean’s hands in electric tingles and he dropped the tool.  A quick check of his father proved he hadn’t killed him, the man’s breath slow and steady even if his pulse was a little thready and erratic.  Castiel was in worse shape.  His left eye was already swollen shut and his nose was a ruin.  Dean thought his right cheek bone might be fractured, too, but that wasn’t critical.  He ran the pads of his fingers up both sides of Cas’ nose lightly, finding only one break. 

 

Sam had broken Dean’s nose last year during one of their dad’s ‘training’ sessions, the one where he was teaching them to use any nearby object in a fight.  The kid had grabbed a socket wrench more to scare Dean than to actually hurt him, but Dean had ducked when he should have dodged.  Sam had closed his eyes when he swung the wrench and then blammo: instant broken nose.  He’d dropped the wrench and dissolved in tears, even with Dean reassuring him it wasn’t his fault.  Winchesters didn’t fight fair, they fought to win.  John had shown both boys how to field set a broken nose that day.  Sam hadn’t really absorbed that lesson, what with the crying and profuse apologizing, but Dean had focused on his father’s words to distract from the pain.  Once his nose was more or less straight and the bleeding had stopped, Dean had taken Sam into the motel room and they’d made smores over the hot plate and watched a Die Hard marathon on the motel’s shitty cable while John had gone out to a local bar.

 

Dean lined the blade of his hand up on one side of Castiel’s nose and his opposite thumb on the other and _pushed._    Castiel groaned as his nose realigned with a sickening crunch and his good eye blinked open.

 

“Wha-ow! Fuck!” Castiel slurred, his hand going automatically to his nose.  Dean held his face in both hands gently to keep him from making it worse.

 

“Cas? Cas, listen to me.  We have to leave.  If we’re still here when Dad wakes up…I don’t know…he’ll kill you, and maybe me, but definitely you,” Dean explained quickly.

 

“Dad?” Castiel glanced down at John’s body sprawled in his yard, “Fuck! Dean,” he cut his eyes back to Dean, “Wha’appined?”

 

“My dad showed up and punched you,” Castiel rolled his good eye and huffed, “Okay, he pounded your face in, but it’ll be a lot worse if we stick around, so let’s go, come on.  Can you stand?”

 

“Fink sho,” Cas spit a wad of blood onto the grass as Dean helped him out of the lawn chair and across the yard to the back deck.  Dean sat him a kitchen chair with two bags of frozen peas and started gathering a go-bag for him.  Dean’s was already in the trunk of the Impala and he knew his dad kept a box of emergency cash and fake IDs under the trunk’s false bottom.  He threw clothes and other essentials in a gym bag he found in Cas’ closet, then raided the man’s desk for his wallet.  Dean ran back out to his dad, who was still unconscious in the yard, and dug the Impala’s keys out of the man’s pocket.  He hustled Castiel out to the car, shoving a pair of ratty tennis shoes in his arms on the way.

 

Dean couldn’t help the glances in the review as he drove them away, firmly convinced he’d see his father, hair bloody and matted, chasing after the Impala like the fucking Terminator.  Castiel groaned next to him and rolled his head over to pin Dean with his good eye, “Wha’re we doing? Where we going?”

 

Dean sighed and glanced over at him.  God, everything was so fucked up, but even like this, face busted and confused as fuck, Cas was ethereally beautiful.  “I…I didn’t want any of this to happen, Cas, ya gotta believe me.”  Castiel just continued to stare at him.  “Well, look, here’s the thing: we have to run.  And, and when I say run, what I mean is go as far away as possible and hide, just, like, drop off the grid for a while, until he loses the trail.  So, yeah, that’s, um, that’s what I’m doin’.  Like, directionless driving to shake him.”

 

Castiel stared blankly at him for a moment, then sat up as far his seat belt would allow before throwing a bag of frozen peas at Dean’s chest, “ ** _What the_ FUCK _are you talking about??!!_** ” he screamed, ear-shattering in the confines of the car.

 

“ _Fuck_ , fuck! Okay! Goddamnit, Cas, fucking stop before you make me crash!”  Dean tossed the peas in the back seat and pulled the car out onto the freeway heading southeast, thinking his dad would expect him to head toward Sioux Falls.  “My dad, he’s, um, he’s a merc.” Sharp intake of breath and Dean waited, for the questions, the accusations, even a denial, but there was nothing for what felt like a long time.  They drove another four miles before Castiel finally spoke.

 

“Pull off at the next exit,” he stated dully, looking out the window.  Dean signaled and parked in the big truck stop right off the exit ramp.  Castiel made no move to get out or even turn around.  When he started talking, his voice just sounded sad and resigned, “Do you have somewhere you can go, where you’ll be safe until he calms down?”

 

“Well, yeah, I guess.  I could go to my Uncle Bobby’s.  If I’m there with Sam, he won’t try anything, but you- “

 

“Don’t worry about me.”

 

“Come on, man don’t be like that!  You’re in this because of me! I- “

 

“I’m already dead,” Castiel turned to look Dean in the eye, “We both know there’s no way out for me now.”  Dean opened his mouth to argue, but Cas’ hand on his stopped him.  It was the same slow, gentle brush across his knuckles from that first day together.  Castiel smiled down at their hands and nodded to himself, “It was worth it.”  Little hitch of breath, “ _You_ were worth it,” he whispered.  Castiel abruptly took his hand away and wiped a tear from his fractured cheek.  He put a hand on the door, “Good bye, Dean.”

 

“WAIT!” Dean grabbed the hand closest to him, “Wait, okay, look, I know it seems hopeless, but…Cas just trust me, okay?  I can do this!  My dad, he taught me everything I need to know about disappearing and I…I know him, I know how he thinks and what he’ll do.  I can _do_ this!”  Dean laced his fingers with Cas’, “Please, just…give me a chance…just, don’t leave me…”

 

Castiel glanced back out the windshield and Dean could see the muscles in his jaw working as he struggled with himself.  He looked back at Dean and Dean could see the moment he broke, handing himself over to whatever fate awaited him in Dean’s hands, running from a freelance assassin/bounty hunter with a very real desire to see Castiel six feet under.

 

 

            This was so abysmally stupid, depthless insanity, but when he looked over at Dean and his earnest face, full of perfect honesty and hope, Castiel broke.  He just gave in, wordlessly but definitively, buckling his seatbelt and facing forward quietly as Dean backed out and pulled back on the freeway.  He fell asleep at some point in the endless driving and woke up when Dean turned the car off in front of a fleabag motel in a long line of fleabag motels, not too far from an airport.  Castiel watched while Dean trotted up to the office window and paid for a room in cash, no ID required, and Cas didn’t know these kinds of places existed in this day and age.  He followed Dean to the room, followed him into the bathroom, let himself be pushed down to sit on the toilet lid, sat quietly while Dean cleaned up his face and applied ointment and butterfly bandages from a battered white box.  He let Dean strip his shirt off delicately, let Dean pull his shorts off, let Dean lead him to the lumpy queen-sized bed, let Dean snuggle up against his back, let himself sink into the safety of sleep.

 

            Dean held out a handful of oblong white pills to him in the morning and passed him a bottle of water after he’d selected two.  He wanted to ask where Dean had gotten them, but his jaw felt wired shut, so he sipped at the chocolate milk Dean brought him and waited for the pills to work.  He watched Dean move around the room while he sat in the middle of the scrambled bedding.  He didn’t move like a child, no hesitancy or stop-starts.  He strode out to the car, carrying in bags and boxes, cataloging their supplies and making a list of things they still needed, like this happened every day.  He seemed oblivious to Castiel’s scrutiny until he stopped sorting through a box of money and ID cards on the table and spoke in a quiet rumble, “Why’re you watching me?”

 

            Castiel waited until he turned around, then shrugged in lieu of a verbal response.  Dean sighed heavily and turned back to the box.  “You probably have some questions.”  Dean stuffed everything back in the box and locked it back up.  He sat next to Cas on the bed and gave him the abridged version of his life.  Mother dead when he was four, victim of a housefire that was supposed to wipe out the whole family but only succeeded in pulling his father back into the life he’d given up for her.  Years of taking care of baby Sam while his father reestablished contacts and relationships then started taking jobs to raise money to go after their mother’s murderers.  Little Dean watching out the window as his father left them alone in motel rooms for days, at family friends’ houses for weeks, months.  Then dragging his two boys along behind him in a series of weeks-long trips to work and train them up in the life.  Dean was an expert with handguns by age ten, could take a grown man down, bare-handed, in under a minute by age twelve.  Years of sheltering Sam from their father’s temper, always trying to keep John’s focus on him so Sam could be a somewhat normal kid.  Nine months of almost-generic suburban life next door to Castiel while their father got to the end of his most important hunt, the house they’d been staying in a temporary gift from a grateful client of John’s, until it had been sold.

 

            “That’s why I, ya know, with you,” Dean said quietly, not looking at Castiel but down at their hands where they were joined in Dean’s lap, “Dad called, said he was almost done, he and I were gonna do the job together, kill the guy who killed my mom.  So, I sent Sam to stay with Bobby and I was getting the house ready, can’t leave a trace we were there, and I saw you watching me…and I thought…this might be my last chance…and I just, I just wanted you so bad…I…I didn’t…think…” Dean dissolved in tears and Cas drew his head into his chest, letting Dean sob against his skin.

 

            Castiel knew what a merc was.  His father was one of the most powerful businessmen on the West coast, so he’d heard some things.  If a rich someone wanted something unsavory done, from taking out a competitor to industrial espionage, a merc was the answer.  An entire underground network of disavowed spies, ex-military hunters, and disenfranchised foreign elements existed for the sole purpose of providing the rich elite with their own on-demand army.  By marrying Josie and retiring to suburbia, Castiel had sought to distance himself from the kind of business dealings his father required of his brothers, but here he was, fallen into the exact quagmire he’d spent ten years trying to avoid.  But Dean, Jesus, Dean was just a kid.  Despite the grown-up body and the fast-track childhood, he was still a kid. 

 

            Dean wiped his face on a corner of the sheet and turned his red face up to Castiel, “I’m sorry,” he muttered, his neck stretching up to put his lips gently on Castiel’s, “Love you, Cas,” he whispered against Castiel’s battered mouth, “Love you,” as he climbed in Castiel’s lap, “Please don’t leave me…love you…sorry…need you, Cas…so sorry…please…” Castiel tried to quiet the litany with soft kisses and touches, but Dean grew more and more frantic.  He pushed Castiel back on the bed and trailed his confessions and apologies down the older man’s chest.  Cas tried not to look down as Dean nipped and licked at his hip bones, willing himself not to get hard.  The whole situation was so fucked up and sad and he should not be thinking about burying his dick in Dean’s wet mouth or tight ass but oh God, he _was_.  Dean’s mouth on the base of his cock, his tongue licking the crease between his balls and his thigh, his hot breath pouring over the drops of spit left behind on his pubic hair and Castiel slipped into the swirling river of lust and hot, spiking desire the boy was offering up.

 

            He dared a look down his own body at Dean’s bright green eyes when the motion over Dean’s back caught his eye.  Dean pulled his fingers out of his ass and slicked Castiel’s cock up with the rest of the lube he’d been using to open himself up.  Before Cas could even ask what the Hell Dean was thinking, the boy was scrambling back up into Cas’ lap and lowering himself onto his dick.  Dean let his head fall back between his shoulders as he adjusted, hips moving in little figure-eights and Castiel beneath him, gasping for breath.  Cas dragged his nails down Dean’s thighs where they stretched wide around his hips, drawing a hissed moan out of the boy.  Dean looked down at him with a purpose, eyes laser-focused and brows drawn down.  He planted his hands on Castiel’s ribs and rose up, slamming back down hard enough to have Castiel’s back coming up off the bed, his hands scrambling for purchase on Dean’s hips as he begged and babbled unintelligibly.  Dean set a hard pace, fucking himself of Castiel’s dick like it was his life’s work and Castiel lost all ability to reason or think of anything but the bright-white shocks of pleasure exploding behind his eyes.

 

            Castiel managed to get his legs bent and his feet planted in the cruddy mattress and started fucking up into every down thrust.  Dean let out a yelp and grabbed onto Castiel’s knee with one hand, his other hand stripping his own cock furiously, “Ah fuck baby, yeah, fuck, love you so much, Cas, yeah make me come, baby, love it, love you so fucking much, give it to me, wanna ride you forever, fuck Cas, oh God yeah…”  Castiel zoned out, his whole world narrowing down to this incredible creature bouncing on his dick and the fire of his orgasm building in the base of his spine.  And then thick, warm stripes of come slapping into his chest, his chin and Dean arched back, hand on his cock as it ruptured across Castiel and he was coming so hard, deep inside Dean, mouth open in a painful silent scream. 

 

 

            Dean snored something fierce, right into Castiel’s ear, but he chalked it up to stuffy sinuses from the boy’s little break down earlier.  It wasn’t good that he’d felt the need to distract Castiel with sex.  It was even worse that Castiel had let him.  Sex was the glue Dean tried to use to bind Castiel and fuck him if it wasn’t working.  Despite his ability to see right through the boy’s ploy, he’d let it happen and what did that say about him?  Did he love Dean?  He wasn’t sure, mainly because he’d never been in love before.  What did that even mean?  He certainly _liked_ Dean.  Aside from the obvious sex-related activities, being around Dean was like lounging in the sun on a spring day.  He was funny in a way no adult in Castiel’s life was, willing to embarrass himself to get Castiel to laugh.  He was smart but humble about it, which was a rare quality in anyone, no matter their age.  He was kind and thoughtful, that was evident by the way he treated his brother, always putting Sam’s needs before his own.  He was all of these things, all the things Castiel had always looked for in a friend and everything he would have looked for in a partner, if he’d ever been given the chance.  Dean was also a sixteen-year old boy, who laughed at fart jokes and dropped his towel on the floor instead of hanging it on the rod and sniffed his shirt before shrugging and pulling it on.  He was a mish-match of maturity and childishness, of artless sensuality and inane humanity. 

 

He was perfect and Castiel loved him with all his heart.

 

 

            Three weeks and four states later and still no sign of John Winchester, or any other merc, for that matter.  Castiel’s face was mostly healed, at least enough for them to take turns paying for motel rooms without standing out to any mildly-attentive clerk.  Dean had abandoned the Impala in Colorado, something he still grumbled about when he was getting tired and cranky from driving most of the day.  He very rarely let Castiel drive, complaining that whatever route Castiel chose was too deliberate, a path John would easily sniff out.  Cas had no idea how he came to that conclusion, but it suited him just fine, he’d never really liked driving long distances.  Two days at that first motel had been the longest they’d stayed in one place, just long enough for Dean to pick up what few supplies they needed, including a burner phone, and call Bobby.  Castiel had only heard one side of the conversation, but it was clear Dean’s only concern was for Sam’s peace of mind, reassuring Bobby that he had not been kidnapped and would be out of contact for a while of his own free will.  Castiel had stood inside the bathroom, listening to Dean talk to his brother in low tones and his heart broke.  It was all his fault Dean was apart from Sam.  But then again, if John had had his way, Dean would be off with him on a ‘job’.  Becoming an assassin at sixteen was only slightly worse than becoming a middle-aged man’s boytoy.  What started out as a conciliatory blowjob turned into Dean bending Castiel over the room’s squeaky Formica table and fucking him hard and fast until Castiel was coming on a sob with Dean’s dick still twitching in his ass.  Dean didn’t talk to him for the rest of the evening but curled up in Castiel’s arms like everything was fine that night.

 

            So, they flew across the country, stopping briefly at gas stations, roadside diners, different motels every night.  Castiel had never lived like a vagabond, but Dean always unerringly knew which motels were safe, what country roads to take, what bars wouldn’t be bothered by his young face.  And every night (most mornings and the occasional afternoon, too) were spent exploring each other, drowning the constant fear and uncertainty in sex mixed with not a little love, tender kisses turning into desperate fucking.  Until, that was, the next time Dean called Bobby.

 

            He had run out to a local diner while Castiel slept in and decided to duck in to the convenience store next to the restaurant on the way back.  He bought some road food and stared stupidly at the little display of cell phones in front of the cash register while he waited in line.  When it was his turn, he grabbed the cheapest one and threw it in his pile of junk food and sodas.  He activated it on the walk back to the motel.  After depositing the diner breakfast on the front seat, he’d sat behind the wheel of their latest stolen vehicle, a horrendously yellow ’78 Lincoln Continental, chosen for the laugh it got out of an otherwise grouchy Castiel, and called Bobby.

 

            “Hey, Bobby.”

 

            “ _Oh, hey Caleb, what’s goin’ on with you?_ ”

 

            “My dad’s there, isn’t he?”

 

            “ _Yup, sure thing, buddy._ *muffled* _I gotta take this._ ”

 

            “ _Where the Hell are you, boy? Do you realize how worried we’ve been?!  Sam’s been outta his mind!  And then your daddy shows up this morning, spinnin’ some bullshit about how you was kidnapped by some pedophile and got your brother cryin’!_ ”

 

            “I told you I wasn’t kidnapped.  I just…Bobby, if we’d stayed, Dad woulda killed Cas!”

 

            “ _He’s still gonna kill ‘im!  Soon’s he finds you two…look, just drop the guy off somewhere and come back, you can’t run forever, Dean._ ”

 

            “I know, okay?  I know…I just, I can’t leave him out here on his own.  Dad’d find him without my help, you know that, Bobby.”

 

            “ _You realize he’s got everyone he knows on the lookout for you two?  Even if you could keep goin’ forever, your luck’ll run out eventually.  I don’t wanna see this get to the point where you get caught in the middle and get hurt,_ ” Bobby sighed, as broken as Dean had ever heard him.  “ _Is this guy really worth your life?_ ”

 

            Dean swallowed the tears that burned at the back of his throat, “Yes,” he whispered.

 

            “ _Is he worth never seein’ Sam again?_ ”

 

            “It won’t come to that.  I’ll…I’ll think of something, just…do what you can, buy us some time.  Can you do that for me, Bobby?”

 

            “ _Yeah, Dean, I can do that._ ”

 

            “Thanks, Bobby.  I gotta go, Cas’ll be waking up soon and I don’t want him to think I ditched him.”

 

            “ _Alright.  Be careful, you hear me?_ ”

 

            “Yeah, Bobby, I will.”

 

            “ _Idjit._ ”

 

            Dean got out of the Lincoln and walked around the front of the car, pulling the room key out of his pocket.

 

            “Nice car, man.” 

 

            Dean glanced behind him to see a black guy standing next to the Lincoln, looking at it with a kind of disdainful smirk. “Uh, yeah, thanks.”

 

            “Where’s the Impala?” Dean turned slowly around, left hand going for the knife he had tucked into the back of his jeans. The guy shook his head and tsked, “Dean, Dean, Dean,” he pulled a Glock 9 out from behind his back, “you know that’s a bad idea, kid.”  Dean put both hands out reluctantly.  “You know, you’re a lot taller than the last time I saw you.  I bet little Sammy’s growing like a weed, too, huh?”  As the guy sauntered over, Dean finally got a good look at his face.

 

            “I don’t know, Gordon, maybe you’re just shrinking.”

 

            Gordon smiled wide, but it didn’t touch his eyes, “Funny.  You always were the funny one.  Why don’t we go inside, and you can introduce me to your sugar daddy?”

 

            “How about you go fuck yourself?”  Gordon threw a quick jab to Dean’s gut, quick and sharp enough to make Dean double over.

 

            “How about you shut your smart mouth or else I’ll find a better use for it, huh?” Gordon hissed in his ear as he pulled the knife out of Dean’s waistband. “Key.” Dean slapped the motel key into Gordon’s outstretched hand.  Gordon shoved him roughly into the room as soon as the key was turned in the lock.  The bed was empty, and Dean looked frantically toward the bathroom, its door open and light off.  Dean looked stupidly around the tiny motel room.

 

            “Where the fuck is he?”  Gordon growled from behind Dean.

 

            “I don’t…I…” Dean turned around in a circle, but Cas was just…he was just gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is so far from my original outline, I don't even know what's gonna happen.


	4. Trouble (Coldplay)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Cas deal with Gordon  
> Cas makes a hard decision

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is so late  
> And short

Trouble (Coldplay)

            Gordon pushed Dean, hard, and he stumbled across the room, still too shocked by Castiel’s disappearance to realize how much danger he was in from his dad’s friend.  As soon as he’d gotten his feet under him, Gordon pushed him again and he fumbled to catch himself on the bed, flipping around to keep himself facing Gordon, a fresh pulse of rage rising in his throat.  Gordon huffed a laugh at him and walked over to peer into the empty bathroom.  Dean listened to him shuffle the plastic shower curtain aside from where he sat on the edge of the bed.  Something pinched his Achille’s heel on his right ankle and his head shot up even as he instinctively yanked his foot away from the bed.  Dean mouthed a relieved ‘Fuck’ and slumped just as Gordon came back out of the bathroom.

 

            “Well, looks like his shit’s still here, so I doubt he flew the coop,” Gordon came around the bed to stand in front of Dean, Glock still in his hand.  “Besides, who could walk away from a sweet little piece like you?” Gordon’s eyes gave Dean that now-familiar up-and-down, the one that made bugs crawl under Dean’s skin and his gorge rise.  “Just look at that mouth, hm?  Those lips were made for sucking cock.  I don’t know why John was so shocked, Hell, I’m surprised he didn’t train you up himself.” Gordon smiled at Dean’s dark look of disgust, “Or is that it?  Did Daddy find you sucking Mr. Replacement’s dick and go all ‘woman scorned’?  Yeah, I bet that’s it.  No wonder he said you weren’t a target, just your boyfriend.”  Gordon took another step closer, putting himself between Dean’s knees, “Well, your daddy didn’t say he had to have you back untouched, just alive.” Dean looked down at the floor between his feet, trying mightily to control the fury that threatened to explode out of his chest.  The very tip of the Colt he kept in the room peeked out from under the corner of the blanket hanging off the bed.  “I figure we can keep ourselves entertained until your man comes back and I put a bullet in his head,” Gordon was saying as he slid his belt open.  “What’dya say, boy?”

 

            Dean smiled up at Gordon, which caused the man’s smirk to slip, “His name is Castiel,” he said as Cas cocked the gun, “and he’s already here.”  Castiel shot Gordon’s left leg, the bullet pulverizing calf muscle and shattering shin bone in its path, and Dean plucked the Glock out of his hands as he went down in a screech of pain and a jet of blood.  The report of the gun was deafening in the tiny room and at such close range.  Dean stood up and stepped around Gordon as he writhed on the floor in silenced agony.  Castiel rose up from the other side of the bed like a dream, eyes wide and face flushed.  Dean went to him and took the gun out of his hand, tossing both guns on the bed and wrapped the older man in his arms. 

 

            Castiel clung to him, shaking and Dean could feel him trying to say something against his neck.  Dean started to make out sounds through the ringing in his ears.  He put his mouth to Cas’ ear and spoke loud enough for him to hear, “We have to go.”  Castiel nodded against his neck and pointed at the guns.  Dean gathered them and everything they’d left out of their duffles and packed it all up.  Gordon had stopped struggling, down to little quivering jerks and the occasional low gurgle as he bled out on the crusty motel carpet.  Castiel joined him at the door and then they were out into the sunlight.

 

            Dean made them switch cars in the next town, ten minutes down the highway, in a grocery store parking lot.  He was a demon about stopping for the next four days, until Cas finally lost patience with sleeping in the SUV they’d taken and demanded they get a room somewhere.  While Dean was in the shower, Castiel rooted around in his bag until he found the burner cell Dean had bought before Gordon had found them.  There was only one phone number in the call history.  Castiel pushed the green ‘talk’ button.

 

 

            Castiel let the hot water beat a tattoo on his back, his head falling between his arms.  He’d convinced Dean to turn northwest, but he wasn’t sure how long they could keep going this direction before Dean caught wise to where they were headed.  A flurry of cold air rushed in to the humid shower as the curtain was drawn back and a naked Dean stepped in next to Castiel.  “Need help washing your back,” he asked, his hand going to the slick of Cas’ lower back.  Castiel turned his head and flicked the water from his eyes with a hand.  The water was already beading on Dean’s flushed skin and in his long eyelashes.  Castiel’s heart broke at the sight of him, so beautiful and so terribly young. 

 

            Cas reached out, grasping the skin at the back of his neck and pulled Dean in, his lips sliding against the younger man’s softly at first.  Dean gasped and leaned into the contact, hands going instinctively to Cas’ hips.  Castiel slipped his tongue in between Dean’s perfect teeth, tasting the stale coffee and vending machine donuts from earlier.  His heart tripped as Dean brought their groins together, the younger man already hard, a hot brand against Castiel’s hip.  Cas flipped them, putting Dean’s back to the wall of the shower, and growled into the boy’s collar bone when he gasped in pleasant surprise.  Castiel trailed his fingertips down Dean’s ribs and over his sharp hip bones.  He lifted his head to watch Dean’s face as he gripped the boy’s hard cock in one hand, reaching for the little bottle of motel shampoo with the other.  He dribbled what was left of the bottle over the shaft of Dean’s hot dick, ignoring his whimper at the feeling of the cold gel.  “Stand still,” Cas commanded when Dean pushed his hips out and made a grab for Castiel’s cock.  Keeping his strokes measured but firm, Castiel stared at Dean while he brought him off.  The hectic patches of pink coloring his cheeks and obscuring his freckles, how the water rebounded off Castiel’s shoulder and splashed in bright specks across the boy’s smooth chest, his arms flexing as he struggled to keep his hands to himself.

 

            “Cas, please…wanna touch you…” he whined.  Castiel ran a hand up that flat stomach, past a hard pec, to grip the juncture between Dean’s neck and shoulder.

 

            “Not yet,” he ground out and increased his pace, fist tight as he twisted his wrist on the upstroke, thumb swiping across the slit on every pass, concentrating on the head, until Dean’s whole body was shaking.  Castiel tilted his head, too caught up in watching Dean fall apart in his hands to care about his own arousal.  He wanted to memorize every twitch, every whimper, every flick of water off the boy’s eyelashes as they fluttered with his approaching orgasm.  Dean gritted his teeth, jaw popping, as his dick swelled in Castiel’s hand and pulsed warm come across the older man’s stomach.

 

            “Fuck, Cas, _fuck_ ,” he groaned.  Castiel stroked him lightly through it, putting his shoulder to Dean’s when the boy’s knees threatened to give out.  Dean blindly sought out Castiel’s mouth as Cas let the spray wash away Dean’s spend.  He gripped Dean’s jaw in both hands and steered him out of the shower with chaste kisses.  He kicked the handle down to shut off the water and followed Dean.  He dried himself and the boy off when Dean proved a little too loose-limbed to complete the task himself.  He led Dean out to the bed and pushed him down to the mattress.  Dean sprawled his big body out on the weirdly pretty motel comforter, hands reaching up over his head.  His cock hadn’t even softened and it waggled against his hip as Dean stretched his bowed legs out, letting his knees fall open.  The boy smirked lazily up at him as Cas gazed at him.  He could never get enough of this view, but he worried that just staring at Dean all night might tweak the boy to what Castiel was thinking. 

 

            Castiel sighed and turned to retrieve the lube out of his bag.  He lay his body along Dean’s, luxuriating in the heat that rolled off the younger man’s body.  He let his right hand roam wherever it wanted, his nail trailing a circle around a nipple here, palming a rib there.  He kept Dean’s wrists held above his head in a loose grip as he watched his own hand trace every curve and draw constellations on Dean’s skin, until the boy was whining and writhing under him.  Castiel shushed him with slow, wet kisses.  Cas released Dean’s hands and climbed between the boy’s legs, pushing his thighs back and trailing hot kisses down them to his plush ass.  He glanced back up at Dean’s face once before plunging down between his cheeks.  Dean’s eyes were wide and glassy, his mouth dropped open as he panted quietly.  Castiel smirked when Dean groaned as he laved his tongue over the crinkled skin of his pucker. 

 

            Castiel settled down on his stomach and ate Dean’s ass for what felt like hours, a slow, sweet torture that had Dean nearly in tears, constant pleas falling from his lips, even as he pushed his ass back onto Cas’ tongue and his hand tightened in Castiel’s hair.  Castiel only stopped when his jaw began to ache.  He slicked up the fingers of his left hand and proceeded to stretch Dean as lovingly and thoroughly as when he had used his tongue, until Dean _was_ in tears and his begging took on an edge of desperation.  Cas finally rose to his knees and slicked up his cock almost absently, his eyes still trained on Dean as he pushed the boy’s knees back and out.  Dean sobbed in relief and gripped the backs of his knees to hold himself open for Cas.

 

            Castiel lined up and bent over, his right hand going to cup Dean’s jaw as he pushed in, millimeter by millimeter, soaking up every micro-expression that flitted across Dean’s face as he filled him.  He swallowed the groan that wanted to escape his chest as he bottomed out in favor of listening to every hissed inhale and grunted exhale from Dean.  Face pressed to Dean’s neck, his butterfly-pulse fluttering under Castiel’s lips, he started a languid push-pull, dragging out slowly until Dean’s heels were pushing into his ass before giving in and inching back inside.  Dean kept trying to bring Castiel’s face up so he could kiss him, but Cas stayed buried; in his neck, in his cheek, in his chest, anything to keep from having to look at Dean’s face.  He couldn’t let anything ruin this, not even his own traitorous heart. 

 

            Castiel made love to Dean until the boy was strung tight as a bow and begging in breathless whispers for ‘more’ and ‘harder’.  When he finally increased his pace, face scrunched up to hold back his own end, Dean let out an exultant cry, spilling between them without a hand on his cock and Castiel completely dissolved, pumping into Dean as they both rode the ebbing waves of bright pleasure.  

 

            After Dean had passed out for his usual post-sex coma, Castiel lay his body alongside him and watched him sleep.  The sweep of his long lashes over freckled cheeks, his pink lips slightly parted, chin tucked into one shoulder, Cas was sure he’d never seen anything more exquisitely beautiful and his heart broke all over again.  When Dean’s eyes fluttered open at last, Castiel suggested dinner, volunteering to go out and get them fast food.  Dean agreed easily, stretching and promising to get out of bed when Castiel got back.  He was pleasantly surprised at the strawberry milkshake Castiel included in the meal he handed him when he got back.  Dean traced circles on Castiel’s leg as he drifted back off to sleep after finishing every last drop of his shake.

 

 

            “Wha?” Dean snorted awake to someone pounding loudly on the motel room door.  He untangled himself from the knot of bedding, grabbing the Colt from the nightstand as he approached the door.  He was hoping it was just Cas, locked out because he forgot his key again, but he wasn’t taking any chances.

 

            “Boy, I know yer in there, now open up,” came Bobby’s gruff drawl from the other side of the door, followed by more pounding on the old wood hard enough to rattle the door in its frame.  Dean squinted back into the dark room briefly in utter confusion before lowering the gun and sliding the bolt open.  He turned the knob and let Bobby push through, followed closely by Sam.

 

            “Dean!” Sam cried and tackled his brother hard enough to push him back a step.  Dean clasped his little brother to his chest and buried his face in the smell of Sammy’s soft hair, holding back a sob.  Sam suddenly realized he was hugging his barely-dressed older brother and pushed back against Dean’s hold with a laughed ‘Ew, Dean!’.

 

            Dean looked up smiling at Bobby, who was watching the boys with his hands on his hips and a soft look on his usually grouchy face.  “What are you guys doing here?”

 

            “Good to see you, too, boy.  We’ve been good, thanks for askin’,” Bobby groused, moving to gather the few clothes Dean had scattered around the room, tossing a pair of jeans to the teenager.  “Here, get dressed before ya emotionally scar yer brother.”

 

            Dean pulled his jeans on, scanning the rest of the room while he did.  His heart sank when he realized the only things on the bed or the table were his.  He tried to keep his voice level when he asked Bobby what he thought he was doing.  Bobby turned to him, face drawn down in a grimace, and asked Sam to wait in the truck.  Sam looked from Bobby to Dean, ducked his head and trudged out of the room.  Dean pulled on a shirt while he waited for Bobby to answer him.

 

            “Got a funny phone call a couple days ago.  I told yer daddy it was Lee saying he’d seen you two headed back West.  I sent ‘im off and drove down here to pick ya up,” Bobby explained calmly as he tucked the last of Dean’s things into his duffle.  Dean handed him the Colt and let him zip up the bag. 

 

            “Cas called you,” Dean sighed, looking down at the scratchy motel carpet.  His heart hammered in his chest but at the same time, he felt like it’d been scooped out of his chest, leaving a raw, bloody ache in its wake.

 

            “Yeah, he sure did.  Finally manned up, so I guess that counts fer somethin’.  Look, kid, this is really the best way things coulda gone, ya gotta see that.  Yer gonna come home with me and I’m gonna let yer daddy know yer safe and he’s gonna let the whole thing drop.”  Bobby sighed and placed a hand on Dean’s shoulder as he passed.  “Put yer boots on and meet me in the truck.”

 

            “Bobby, do you really think Dad’ll just let him go?”  Dean asked, one-part hopeful, two-parts disbelieving.

 

            “Boy, I know enough about yer daddy to keep him quiet, things he don’t want gettin’ out bad enough he’ll do exactly what I say.  You boys’re gonna stay with me from here on out.  I ain’t lettin’ you two get mixed up in any more a yer daddy’s bullshit.  All that’s over now, son.  Come on, get a move on, long drive ahead and I promised yer brother we’d stop at that donut place as soon’s they open.”  Dean shoved his feet into his boots and followed Bobby out to the truck, eyes trained on the cracked cement of the old parking lot.  He was so deep in his own misery, he didn’t see the car he and Cas had been driving idling at the end of the building, a single dark figure hunched over the steering wheel.

 

            Bobby handed Dean the keys to his truck and slid into the passenger seat.  He was damn-well tired of driving and letting younger hands take the wheel for the next eight hours sounded mighty fine.  The last person he’d expected to be on the other end of the phone number he’d come to recognize as Dean’s had been Castiel.  As soon as John had shown up screaming about catching Dean with the older man, Bobby had done a little research and found nothing that made him think Dean was in any danger.  Dean had his issues, but Bobby was sure he would never let himself get abused by some stuffed shirt tax accountant from freaking Beverly Hills.  Now that he had Dean with him, safe more from his father’s ill-conceived vendetta than from Castiel, Bobby had no intention of ever letting John get his hands on his boys again.  Bobby would raise them from now on, give them the life they deserved.

 

            Castiel watched Dean follow his uncle out to the truck.  He watched him back out of the parking space and pull away.  He’d planned on being far away by the time Bobby got there, but he hadn’t been able to actually drive away with Dean sleeping innocently in the motel room.  Now that he knew Dean was safe, Castiel put the car in Drive and headed West, occasional tears blurring the lines on the road.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! One more chapter to go!


	5. Wait for Me (Kings of Leon)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Six years later...

Wait for Me (Kings of Leon)

            He looked exactly the same as Dean remembered.  His hair was a little shorter, more gray at the temples, and his scruff a little longer, but otherwise, exactly the same.  Dean’s heart was hammering in his chest and he couldn’t seem to get enough air, but he’d already chickened out twice, so today was the day.

 

            When Benny had called last week, it had seemed like Fate.  He’d been ready to spend the entire next month searching the Pendleton area to find him, but Benny had been good to his word and come up with a name and place of work.  Sam had been less than enthusiastic when Dean called to let him know where he’d be.

 

            “I’m not trying to ruin this for you, Dean, but have you thought about the fact that he _walked away_?  And it’s not like he went out of his way to contact you, I mean, he knew where you were for years and he didn’t even call.”

 

            “I know, Sammy, and yes, I have thought about it.  Hell, it was _all_ I could think about for a long time.  I know he walked away, but I just…I have to know.  I have to know why, I have to hear it from him.  I need to hear him say he didn’t love me to my face.”

 

            “It’s been six years, Dean- “

 

            “I know how long it’s been!” He didn’t mean to snap at Sam, but goddamn, “You could at least try to be a little more supportive, Sam,” he murmured.

 

            Sam sighed into the receiver, “You’re right, I’m sorry.  I just worry about you, ya know.  It hasn’t been very long since Dad and I’m just not sure you’re, like, emotionally ready to take this step.”

 

            “Oh, are we having a moment here, Sammy?  Want me to stop by so we can braid each other’s hair and talk about boys?”

 

            “Whatever, asshole, I was trying to be _supportive_.”

 

            “Well, be supportive by shuttin’ the Hell up and wishing me luck, then, bitch,” Dean laughed.

 

            “Fine. Good luck. Jerk,” Dean could hear the smile Sam was trying to repress, “And call me when you…get home, or whatever.”

 

            “Or whatever, got it.  Talk atcha later, bitch,” Dean hung up before Sam could call him a jerk again, thereby winning that particular round.  He went back to the map of Oregon on his phone with a smile on his face.

 

 

            It was kind of busy at the Gas N Sip today, but that was good.  He stood at the back of the store by the reach-ins and watched Castiel interact with customers and the little blonde manager for a while.  He couldn’t help the jolt of hot jealousy that struck him when he saw Cas laughing at something the blonde said, touching her elbow as he threw his head back.  Dean waited until she went into the back room before getting in line at the register.  The woman in front of him got her lottery ticket and turned to leave.  This was it, final hour.

 

            “I’ll have some beef jerky and a pack of menthols,” Dean said, smiling.

 

            Castiel’s eyes went wide, his mouth dropped open in surprise, “Wha-what are you doing here, Dean?” he asked breathily.

 

            “Good to see you, too,” Dean snarked.  He hadn’t exactly expected Cas to leap over the counter and into his arms, but he’d thought he’d get at least a smile.  The blonde manager, Nora, according to her name tag, came up behind Castiel with a cash drawer in her hands.

 

            “Steve, is there a problem?” she asked, bumping Castiel over with her elbow so she could stow the drawer in the cash register.

 

            “Yeah, _Steve_ , there a problem?” Dean asked, loading the question with more meaning than Nora would ever know.  His eyes were locked on Castiel’s, the older man seemingly unable to look away.

 

            “N-no, no problem, um, Nora?  Can you count my drawer out when you lock up?  I have to…I need to go,” Castiel stammered, still staring at Dean.

 

            “Uh…okay?  Sure, I guess, if it’s an emergency…” Nora’s eyes darted between Dean and Castiel, “I’ll, uh, call you if there’s an issue?”

 

            “Yeah, okay,” Cas muttered before breaking eye contact with Dean and ducking into the back office.

 

            Dean shook himself a little, almost like waking from a dream and gave Nora his winningest smile, what Sam always called his panty-dropping smile.  She smiled back nervously, eyes automatically tracking Castiel as he came around the end of the counter, sans blue vest, and turned to follow Dean out the door.  Her ‘See you tomorrow, Steve’ was cut off when Castiel let the door swing shut behind him.  Dean turned around to face him as they hit the sidewalk running in front of the little gas station.

 

            “So, um, hi,” Dean said with a weak smile, hand going to the back of his neck in that unconscious gesture.

 

            Castiel tipped his head, trying to reconcile the man in front of him with the boy he knew all those years ago, “Hello, Dean.”

 

            Dean’s nerves suddenly ratcheted up and he felt exposed out here on the street, the sound of cars splashing through the puddles left from last night’s rain more intrusive than they should be.  “Hey, can we, um, go somewhere?  Talk…I want to talk to you, if that’s okay?”

 

            Castiel’s face split in that big, gummy grin that always set Dean’s heart racing, “I live down here, about a mile,” Cas points behind Dean.

 

            Dean didn’t think he could walk a mile side-by-side with Cas and keep from trying to hold his hand or something equally stupid, “I, um, I drove,” he points to the side of the gas station, where he’d parked Baby away from the front doors.

 

            Cas’ face lights up at the sight of the familiar muscle car, “You got her back?” He strides right over and runs a hand lovingly over her hood as he walks over to the passenger side.  Dean tried to tell his heart to calm the fuck down, Castiel touching his car like that is not equal to him touching Dean like that, it was _not_.

 

            “Um, yeah, my dad found her where we left her and drove her back to Bobby’s.  He left her there for me when he, uh…ya know, let’s go, it’s a long story,” Dean finished gruffly, unlocking the driver’s door and leaning over to unlock the Cas’-no, the _passenger’s_ door.

 

            If Dean was worried about walking a mile next to Castiel, being confined in the Impala with the man, even for the few short minutes it took to get to his little house, was a much worse torture.  He still smelled like lightening and cinnamon, coppery and spicy in turns, until Dean wanted to pull over and bury his nose in the man’s scruffy neck and inhale straight from the source.  As it was, Castiel side-eyed him and asked if he had a cold or something, so Dean tried to stop the sniffing and breathe through his mouth.  Dean was never so relieved as when Castiel pointed to a little white, clapboard house at the end of a dead-end street.

 

            The two sat in the car for a moment and when Castiel made a move to get out, Dean’s hushed voice stopped him, “You don’t have any neighbors.”

 

            Castiel stared at his little house, all alone on the end of the street, his nearest neighbors half a block away, “No, I don’t,” he answered simply, trying to keep all the old hurt out of his voice, before getting out of the car.

 

            Dean followed Castiel up the short sidewalk, looking around at the little yard as he waited for Cas to unlock the front door.  The grass was short and neat, the sidewalk lined with a path of wildflowers he would have called weeds if he didn’t know better, but he had feeling he knew what they were for.  In front of the porch was a riot of the same kind of flowers and Dean could see they expanded as they curled around the house.  Castiel stepped in and disappeared down a dark hallway without a word.  Dean followed just as wordlessly.

 

            He came out into a living room/kitchen that looked like it took up the majority of the floor plan of the little house.  Castiel stood by the back door, watching Dean look over the sparse furnishings and bare walls.  “I have to check on something.  There are some beers in the fridge, if you want.” He quickly ducked out the door and vanished from sight.  Dean walked over to the sink and peered through the filmy, yellow curtains on the window to see what Cas was doing. 

 

            The back yard was wild, the flowers from the front of house choking out any grass that may have once grown there, bushes and twisted fruit trees dotting the slopping ground.  Castiel was making his way through the tangled vegetation toward three big, white boxes in the middle of a small copse of the little fruit trees, their white blossoms falling all around him like snow.  Dean gasped slightly, it was like a fairy tale, watching Castiel walk through the flowers while petals dropped onto his shoulders and into his hair.  He fully expected a unicorn to gallop by at any moment.  Dean squinted and saw that not everything flying around out there was cherry blossom petals, some of those things were circling Castiel’s head, then zipping off on crazy tangents, only to come back to the white boxes.  Castiel walked out of sight behind the boxes for a moment, popping back up occasionally as he slid drawers out of the top of the boxes randomly, nodding to himself thoughtfully before putting everything back together and heading back to the house.

 

            Dean backed up and opened the old refrigerator, pretending that he hadn’t just watched Castiel walk around in a mythical dreamland.  As he stood up with two bottles of beer in his hand and turned toward the back door, Dean nearly jumped out of his skin because Cas was _right there_ , smiling that dopey smile and thanking Dean as he took a bottle for himself.  Dean exhaled loudly and told himself to calm the fuck down, this was _Cas_ , there was no need to be so nervous, as the older man led him to the overstuffed couch in the living room.  He sat on the opposite end from Castiel and wished he had the courage to sit next to him.  The desire to feel the heat of Castiel’s thigh pressed up against his own was almost a physical ache, but he kept his distance, still uncertain about, well, everything.  Just because Cas had agreed to talk to him and had invited him into his home didn’t mean what Dean desperately wanted it to mean.

 

            After taking a deep pull of his beer, Dean broke the awkward silence that had settled over them, “So, um, bees, huh?  What’s that about?”

 

            Castiel regarded him seriously, trying to determine if Dean was poking fun at him.  At the look of genuine curiosity on the younger man’s face, he answered honestly, “I’ve always wanted to keep bees, but Josie was allergic.  I…don’t have to worry about that anymore.”  Dan opened his mouth to ask but Castiel answered before he could voice the question, “Divorced, five years now.” He took a slug of his beer, “She, uh, filed after I’d been gone a month.  I didn’t contest it.”  Dean tried not to let the little spark of hope he felt show on his face.  “But you…wow, Dean, you look…” Castiel turned wide, blue eyes admiringly over at Dean, making the younger man flush with pleasure, “You look amazing.  You’ve really…yeah…I don’t…Jesus,” Castiel wiped a hand down his face, covering his eyes and ducking his head to keep from seeing Dean’s face.  “I’m sorry…I…”  Dean took the beer out of Castiel’s hand and placed it gently on the coffee table, alongside his own.  He scooted closer, lacing his fingers with Castiel’s on the cushion of the couch.

 

            “Hey…hey, Cas, it’s okay.  I’m sorry to just show up like this, I guess I should have called, but I just- “

 

            “How did you find me?” Castiel whispered, peeking out from under his hand at Dean.  Dean’s face closed off instantly, his warm green eyes going cold and he tried to pull his hand away from Cas’.  “No, wait…I’m sorry.  I’m not mad, at all, Dean,” Castiel tightened his grip on Dean’s warm hand and leaned toward him, “I’m glad…so glad you…I didn’t think you’d ever want to talk to me again, after what I did, Dean.” Castiel smiled up at Dean’s face as it softened, “I’m so _glad_ to see you.”

 

            Dean finally smiled back at him, reaching into his leather jacket, pulling a slim, black wallet out.  He flipped it open to reveal a bronze star with the words ‘United States Marshall Service’ emblazoned on it, “Finding people’s kinda my job now,” he laughed, “Well, now my job’s _hiding_ people, but…ya know, same thing really.”  Castiel chuckled and Dean continued, “I got moved to WitSec last week.  I start in a month, so finding you wasn’t all that hard, _Steve Milton_.”

 

            Castiel ducked his head again, a blush creeping up his neck, “I was just, uh, doing what, what you taught me.”  Dean smiled and ran his hand up Castiel’s arm to his shoulder.

 

            “You did really well, man.  Whatever you’ve been doing for six years, it worked.  I had people looking for you for months before we got any hint, any clue…you did good, Cas,” Dean knew he should take his hand away, but even the feel of Castiel’s skin through his white button up was intoxicating after all this time.  All the years between then and now seemed to be slipping away, like a tide going out, leaving the wreckage of all that he felt for Castiel bare to the sun.  Dean realized he was stroking Castiel’s shoulder and he would have stopped, he _would_ have, but Cas was leaning into it, his face tipped over to brush his jaw along Dean’s knuckles.  A rush of lust so hot it surprised him into jerking his hand away blew through Dean’s groin.

 

            “So, um, yeah,” Dean cleared his throat, “you’ve been doing okay, right?  I mean, working ata gas station is a far cry from…whatever it was you did before, ha, yeah, ya know, I’m not even sure what it was you did before.”

 

            “CPA, originally.  I, um worked for my father, until I married Josie, then I just did our finances, business and personal.  I didn’t really leave the house much.  That’s how she liked it,” Castiel couldn’t keep the bitter note out of his voice, even though he’d known full well what he was getting into when he married Josie.  Knowing the score didn’t make up for the ten years of loneliness and misery that had been his marriage.  “But, um,” Castiel gulped hard around the lump in his throat, “what about you?  You did well, you, uh, you really…grew up…um, well?” he stammered, reluctant to use the words he really wanted to.  Having Dean’s hands on him after so long, even if it was just on his hand and shoulder was enough to reignite all that chemistry he’d always felt around Dean.  All of the blood in his body seemed to have migrated south, leaving his brain floundering. 

 

            “Yeah, well, that’s all Bobby,” Dean chuckled, dispelling the growing tension.  “He made a deal with Dad, custody of us in exchange for his continued silence on what he assured us were skeletons our father would rather keep buried deep in the closet.”  Dean seemed to realize how his words sounded and glanced at Castiel with a wry half-smirk before continuing, “Anyway, we didn’t see Dad again for almost six months, when he brought the Impala, then it was a year, then not again, until Bobby called me four months ago to tell me he was dead. Killed on the job,” Castiel had spent the last six years in low-key terror of John Winchester somehow finding him one day and exacting his bloody revenge, but the way Dean paused, swallowing hard and looking away from Castiel with tears shining in his eyes had him feeling bad that the man was dead.  He’d clearly been a terrible father and a deplorable human being, but from Castiel’s own experience with fathers, he knew that when it came down to it, a father was still a father, and the lose of such was still a mournful thing.

 

            “Anyway,” Dean brushed his face on his upper arm and continued with a watery smile, “I. uh, finished school in Sioux Falls and went on to college, studied law enforcement, criminology, got my bachelor’s and went straight into the Service.  Seems the way we were raised really, uh, gave me some special skills that the Marshals could use.”  Castiel scooted closer, his urge to touch Dean growing with every word out of the man’s mouth.  “Sammy’s studying law at Stanford, got a pretty girlfriend and everything, livin’ a normal life…”  Castiel finally braved his hand on Dean’s broad back.  The boy he knew, the boy he’d fallen in love with, had just been beginning to grow into his own skin, his muscles and sinews outstripping his mind’s ability to keep up.  Such was life, he supposed.  There was always that brief summer in any teenager’s life when their body raced ahead of their self, when their emotions and desires got all muddled up with hormones and new-found power and the possibilities seemed endless.  Castiel knew that had been part of Dean’s allure, that wild-eyed man-child who swept Castiel up in a storm of gaudy lust at a time in his life when he had finally accepted that nothing would ever be as colorful or as wonderful as he had imagined it in his own brief summer.  But there had always been an old soul behind Dean’s child-bright eyes, a sadness born of seeing the worst life had to offer, something Castiel had only seen in adults.  The fact that he had shared his vibrant love with Castiel so readily, so selflessly, that had been the thing that won Castiel’s undying devotion.  His body and mind may have finally grown into one another, but his heart and soul were still those of the exuberant sixteen-year old boy who raised his brother to be a loving man and had been willing to give up his own future to save Castiel.

 

            Dean turned his head to watch Castiel, wariness written all over his face.  But there was hope there, too and Castiel couldn’t help the way his own face shown with remembered love.  For so long, he had convinced himself that their love had burned too bright to last, that had he stayed with Dean and somehow found a way to live together, Dean would have grown tired of him, resentful even, that he would have eventually felt like Castiel had stolen his youth and pinned him down before he was ready.  Leaving Dean had been the hardest thing he had ever done, but he knew he owed him his freedom.  And Dean had proven his decision sound by growing up to be an incredible man; someone who took the stain of his childhood and turned into a way to help others, someone who looked at Castiel with an intense love even after the way they’d parted.  Maybe Dean would have grown to resent him, maybe not, but seeing him like this was enough for Castiel.  It was enough that he was here now, that they were together again.

 

            Castiel leaned even closer to Dean and the younger man turned toward him, his eyes wide and his lips parted.  Dean’s breath was coming faster, shallow, and Castiel raised his left hand slowly, keeping his right hand trailing smoothing circles across Dean’s back, like he would handle a horse that might spook.  Castiel cupped Dean’s jaw and the younger man closed his eyes with a sigh, tipping his head further into Cas’ palm.  Cas ran his thumb across Dean’s plump lower lip and it dropped, pressing back against Castiel’s skin.  “I never stopped loving you,” Castiel whispered, his eyes trained on Dean’s as they fluttered open in surprise.  “I never could.  Everything I did, running away from my life, killing a man…” Castiel choked a little but recovered enough to go on, “leaving you in that motel room, I did it, all of it, for you.”

 

            A tear slipped out of Dean’s eye and collected in Castiel’s hand.  “ _Cas_ ,” Dean breathed, “ _I missed you so much_ ,” he all but sobbed.  Castiel pulled Dean into himself, folding around him like origami, both hands framing his face, still that delicate balance of the soft feminine and the sharp masculine, climbing into Dean’s lap and pushed him back into the couch.  Dean’s hands were a vice on Castiel’s hips, holding him tight, like Castiel would even think about trying to get away.  But to dispel the nervous shiver he felt running though Dean’s big hands, Castiel dipped his face down, lips just barely brushing across Dean’s.

 

            “Tell me…you want this,” another light rasp of dry lips, “Tell me…you love me, that you need me still,” Cas snaked the tip of his tongue out and swiped it across Dean’s top lip.

 

            Dean’s eyes overflowed, the tears beading on his long lashes before he could blink them back, “Love you…Cas, God, I…love you so mu- “ and Castiel was on him.  No more teasing brush of lips, no more tests, this was a bruising claim six years in the making.  Castiel thrust his tongue into Dean’s mouth, soft and wet and more than willing.  Dean’s hands clasped at Castiel’s shoulder blades, pulling the smaller man down, crushing his chest to Dean’s as Castiel pushed his leather jacket down his arms.  Castiel broke the kiss only because he couldn’t breathe, trapped between Dean’s mouth and his grip, a more pleasant way to die he couldn’t imagine.  And he felt like he was dying, all the pain and anguish of the last six years fell away like autumn leaves, leaving him bare-boned and exposed to the sky, his soul set to ascend after a lifetime in Hell.

 

            “Missed you…Dean…oh God how I missed you…” Tears of his own dropped into Dean’s hair as the younger man kissed along the bolt of Cas’ jaw, working his way down his neck and pausing at his collar bone, his lips a hot brand on Castiel’s skin.

 

            “I need you, Cas, please…no one else…I’ve never…not since you,” Cas gripped Dean’s jaw and drew his face up, searching those lantern eyes for the truth and seeing it, plain as day.

 

            “Me neither…no one…I couldn’t,” Dean sealed Castiel’s confession between his lips, his touch growing more heated, more desperate and Castiel rolled his hips down, feeling Dean’s cock hard against his own.  They both groaned, heads thrown back and Castiel was right back in his decadent California kitchen again, overwhelmed and caught in the undertow.  Surrounded and infused with **_Dean_** , his blood a boiling fire in his veins, his mind awash in a flood of **_mineminemine_**.  Castiel felt the room shift and his head swam as he gasped at the sense of vertigo and lust mingling, leaving him adrift and dazed.

 

            “Bedroom,” Dean growled into Castiel’s chest just as Cas got with the program and clamped his powerful thighs around Dean’s hips.  Dean’s hands moved down to grip his ass as he bounced him once in his arms to settle his not-inconsiderable weight.

 

            Castiel groaned at the friction of his cock against Dean’s stomach and wrapped his arms around the younger man’s shoulders, “Behind you, on your right,” he answered breathlessly before attacking Dean’s neck, his tongue licking the salty skin, teeth nipping Dean’s soft earlobe.  Dean’s only reply was to turn them and stride quickly down the only hallway in the house, straight into Castiel’s first and hopefully last bachelor’s bedroom.  Two long steps took them to the queen-sized bed, it’s Spartan bedding still a disheveled lump in the middle of the mattress.  Dean tried to drop Castiel to the bed, but Cas wasn’t ready to let go and he dragged him down on top of him, mouth finding Dean’s again as they shared a surprised ‘mrph’.  Dean chuckled into the kiss and pried Cas’ arms off his neck.

 

            He levered himself up, hands braced on either side of Castiel’s head and looked long and adoringly down, “Goddamn, Cas,” he bent to place a chaste kiss to the corner of Cas’ mouth, “so beautiful, just like I remember…” Dean grappled with the buttons on Cas’ shirt, soon growing frustrated and ripping the front apart, looking sheepishly up at Castiel, who couldn’t have wiped the grin off his face for all the money in the world.  They both broke out laughing and Dean apologized as he sat up, but Castiel gripped the hem of his t shirt and shoved it up until Dean gave in and pulled it over his head.  He sighed and slung the shirt away, glancing back down to see Castiel struggling with his belt buckle, the silver sun surrounding a star not unlike his badge, a gift from his brother when he’d been hired by the Marshals.  Dean batted Cas’ hands away and flicked the buckle open one-handed, smirking down at Castiel’s look of consternation and laughed again.

 

            Castiel pushed him off in mock anger and wiggled out of his dress slacks and boxers, ripping his socks off because he may be older, but he wasn’t going to be _that_ guy, “Get your damn clothes off,” he growled at Dean as he leaned over to get the lube out of the second drawer of his nightstand.  He was surprised it wasn’t covered in dust, it’d been so long since he even felt the need to jerk off in his lonely bed, the thought alone was too depressing.  That wasn’t to say he hadn’t rubbed one out to memories of Dean in the shower that very morning, like he did every morning, the images he held dearest to his heart of Dean’s smile, his green eyes dark with want for Castiel, the water beading on his lashes and trailing down his smooth chest as his hands explored Castiel’s body sometimes the only thing that enabled him to get dressed and go to work every day. 

 

            Once he was completely naked, Dean stopped and stared at Castiel as he lay sprawled on the bed.  The younger man’s gaze was a caress, sparking little frissons of lust everywhere his eyes landed and Castiel tried to will the blush that warmed his chest away.  He was six years older and couldn’t help but wonder if Dean was disappointed in what he saw.  He hadn’t dared hold out hope that he would be naked in front of the man he loved ever again, so his running routine had been ignored more often than not in the last two years, his diet narrowing down to microwave meals he snagged at work most days.  He’d noticed more than a few gray hairs cropping up not only on his temples, but around his cock and across his chest lately and he knew his muscle definition was suffering with every year that passed.  Looking at Dean, he knew he didn’t compare.  The lithe boy of six years ago had broadened and bulked up into every gay man’s wet dream.  His chest was still smooth, covered now in a few simple but elegant tattoos, the sun’s rays around a star of some kind, a match to his belt buckle on his left pec, and a black and gray Tree of Life across his ribs on the right side.  His arms bulged, the muscles dancing under smooth, freckled skin, another tattoo of a rose with the name ‘Mary’ and a date under it on his left bicep, as he swung his arms nervously.  Castiel let his gaze snag on the faint line of ginger hair that started below his belly button and widened out into a patch of soft-looking pubes, neatly trimmed where it met his cock, which hung heavy between his legs, his earlier erection flagging as he awaited Castiel’s next move.

 

            “I didn’t…think it was possible,” Castiel met Dean’s eyes, his bottom lip caught between his perfect teeth, “You’re even more gorgeous than you were six years ago.”  Dean’s face split in a happy grin and he dove down to capture Castiel’s mouth hungrily, covering Cas’ slighter frame and straddling his hips.

 

            “God, I was so worried,” Dean sighed, still smiling as he worked his mouth down Castiel’s neck.

 

            “Jesus, Dean, you have _nothing_ to worry about! I’m the one who should worry,” Castiel wove his fingertips through Dean’s short hair and relaxed into the bed as Dean worked him over.  “I was old when we met, now I’m…all flabby and I have gray pubes and I go through about a gallon of arthritis cream a month and- “

 

            “And you’re perfect and beautiful and everything I’ve ever wanted, so stop with the I’m-an-old-fart bullshit,” Dean grumbled as he bit lightly at one of Castiel’s nipples.  Castiel’s back bowed off the bed as he groaned and shoved his chest roughly at Dean’s sinful mouth.  Dean chuckled as he made his way down Cas’ soft stomach to his twitching cock, which lay hard and leaking into his belly button.  “Besides,” he murmured into Castiel’s skin, “gray pubes and loose balls aside, this is still the most magnificent cock I have _ever_ seen.” Dean smirked wickedly up at Castiel before licking a stripe up the big vein that ran along his shaft, flicking his tongue over the slit to capture the drop of precum that hung there like dew.

 

            “Ah, ah, ah, ungh! Shit, _Dean_!” Castiel gasped. “Hey! I don’t have ‘loose balls’,” he huffed indignantly, letting go of Dean’s forearms to air quote the younger man.  Dean laughed lowly and took the head of Castiel’s cock in his mouth, tonguing the slit again before running the flat of his tongue down, following his lips as he engulfed Castiel in tight, wet heat.  Castiel cried out and his hands flew back to Dean’s hair, scritching and tugging lightly, making the other man groan around his dick.  It had been so _long_ and Castiel was dangerously close already, Dean’s mouth and the sight of his big shoulders spanning Cas’ hips lighting him up in record time.  He was just about to pull Dean off when he let Castiel go with an obscene pop and rested his face on the inside of Cas’ thigh, his left hand coming up to loosely stroke Castiel, as if he couldn’t stand to not be touching the older man.

 

            “Sorry…” Dean panted, “…have to stop or I’m gonna blow.” Dean peeked up at Cas through heavy lids and the combination of sexy and shy should have been illegal, “I been waitin’ so long, Cas.”

 

            Castiel yanked Dean back up so he could kiss the taste of himself out of Dean’s mouth, “You…were going to come just from sucking my dick?”  Dean nodded wordlessly against Castiel’s neck and sucked a bruise there.  Castiel groaned deeply and flipped them, getting Dean on his back.  Wide green eyes, pupils blown, stared up at him and Castiel had to bend down to kiss the shocked look off Dean’s face as he ground their hard cocks together.  “I wanted to make this last, make it special for you,” Castiel brushed a lock of dark bronze hair off Dean’s forehead, “but I can’t wait, either.  I want to be inside you so badly, Dean,” he kissed up Dean’s neck to his ear, “May I?” he whispered before licking lightly around the shell of Dean’s ear.

 

            Dean shivered from head to foot and whimpered as Cas licked and nibbled at his ear lobe, “ _Cas_ …please…God, baby, _please,_ ” he begged.  Castiel rumbled his approval and pulled back just long enough to slick up the fingers on his right hand, before bending down to kiss Dean slow and wet as he opened him up, starting with teasing circles around his rim and ending with three fingers tenting and stroking the man’s entrance.  He reared up suddenly and watched Dean’s face as he watched Cas slick up his throbbing cock.  His eyes were nearly black with arousal, lips swollen and spit-shiny, cheeks blazing pink where Castiel had been rubbing his stubble along his sharp cheekbones to make the younger man whimper and gasp.  “I’m ready, baby, please, just…come on…Cas, don’t make me wait…” Dean was nearly in tears.  Despite his reassurances, Castiel knew he wasn’t prepped enough, but Dean had always gotten off best if he was spread on Castiel’s cock as it slowly stretched him.  Castiel lined up and fed the tip of his dick into Dean’s slick hole until he was firmly inside.  He glanced back up to Dean’s face searching for a sign of doubt or regret, but there was nothing but love and desire on Dean’s face as his pink lips fell open farther in a whispered plea.  Castiel surged up, covering Dean’s mouth with his own and swallowing his cry of pleasure as he slid home in one solid push.  Dean gasped beneath him, fingers scrabbling for purchase on Castiel’s sweaty shoulders as his body tried to adjust to the sudden intrusion.  Six years without a flesh and blood dick inside him had blurred the memory of just how incomparably _full_ he felt with Castiel inside him, like his lungs had no room to expand and his stomach was pushing up into his throat.  The shock of it passed slowly and Dean finally caught his breath, looking back up at Castiel frowning down at him, that adorable little crease in his brows, like Dean was a puzzle he couldn’t quite figure out.  Dean smiled softly at him and reached around to grip his hips, “Move, Cas, s’okay, I’m okay.”

 

            Castiel pulled his hips back, the tug of Dean’s inner flesh a delicious crawl along his cock, and thrust sharply back in, helplessly.  All of Dean’s hard-won composure flew out the window as his breath was punched out of him again as he was filled to the brim, over and over, Cas above him breathing hot gusting promises and praise into his face.  Dean watched him, sweating and working to hold back.  Yeah, he was holding back.  It had been six years, not sixty, and Dean knew that look, “Cas,” he whispered, hands framing Castiel’s face, stilling his movements as the man looked at him, startled, “It’s okay, baby, let go, show me how much you missed me, come on, I won’t break, show me, Cas, show me, baby.”  Castiel’s face crumbled and he kissed Dean once, long and deep, before finally, _finally_ letting loose and building up to a real pace.  Bracing his left hand next to Dean’s head, his right cupping Dean’s neck as he fucked into him harder and faster than he thought he was capable of anymore, all the old urgency and fire building up and spilling over into a sudden need to hammer his love into Dean, flesh and bone, blood and breath, until Dean _knew_ , until Dean could _see_ , that he was everything, _everything_ that mattered in the whole wide world.

 

            “ _Dean_ …fuck…love you…God, I love you…please…you have to… _please_ , Dean…please see…” Castiel whimpered desperately, his hand tightening on the side of Dean’s neck, pulling him into Dean, their breath mingling as he slammed into the younger man, his hips pistoning hard enough to push Dean inch-by-inch up the crappy second-hand mattress.

 

            “Cas…yeah, Cas…like that, baby…fuck yeah…oh fuck…so good…ungh…love…please…gonna…gonna make me…fuck, _Cas_ , Cas… _Castiel_ …ah…ah… _ah_ ,” with a grunt, Dean was coming between them, his own hand barely touching his dick where it was trapped against his stomach before he spilled hot pulses over his fist.

 

            Castiel plunged into him one final time, hips trembling as he emptied deep inside his love with a sob.  It was like all the aching, endless desolation of the last six years was pouring out of him, evaporating inside the searing heat of Dean’s soul and Castiel gasped with relief, his hands petting the sides of Dean’s face as he cried into the kiss that Dean pulled him into. “Shhh, baby…it’s okay…Cas, baby, it’s all better now…I’m here…it’s okay…I’m yours, Cas…I’ve got you…I’ve got you.”  Dean pulled Castiel’s head down to his neck and let the other man cry into his skin, holding him through the catharsis they both needed to wipe away their time apart.   Dean kissed Castiel’s tears away as he wound down and smiled into the face of the man he would spend the rest of his life loving.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just can't leave it on a tragic note, it's just not in my DNA

**Author's Note:**

> Castiel is so boned.


End file.
